At All Costs
by Gatekat
Summary: Jazz/Prowl/Soundwave. Everyone is used to Jazz as the former Con, but what if we go with IDW's origin for Megatron and the war and Prowl, a former low-ranked city planner/inspector angered by the glass ceiling sided with them?
1. Making Introductions

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: eventual Jazz/Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 for mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Tactile, Sticky, PnP, Memory-overload, First Time, Dub-con (prostitution and orders)  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Everyone is used to Jazz as the former Con, but what if we go with IDW's origin for Megatron and the war and Prowl, a former low-ranked city planner/inspector angered by the glass ceiling sided with them? What if Jazz, a loyal Autobot, is ordered to bring this mech over to the Autobots, by any means necessary, including spark bonding with him. After all, for a former prostitute and someone who does morally questionably things every orn in the name of the Prime, is bonding really so terrible a fate? Jazz has no idea what he's getting himself into this time.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: The crossover status is because we are taking much of the Bayverse looks and Allspark, but G1's actual history (Megatron was sparked a miner that lead a much-needed revolt over the treatment of working class mechs, Sentinel was assassinated by Megatron, Optimus began as the dock worker then grunt Orion). We begin before Megatron is all that insane. What I did to Soundwave ... I'll just apologize to everyone who liked him as a hard core Con.

klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>PIM = Penetrative Interface Module ... AKA sticky interfacing equipment (spike and valve).<br>~text~ bond/hardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

The Praxian Tri-Wing frame was originally designed by ace_of_the_arts (LJ/FA), named by Gatekat and this Prowl illustration by the most wonderful alteride (DA) ( alteride .deviantart .com/art/Commission-Resonance-Prowl-254774764 )

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 01: Making Introductions<p>**

* * *

><p>Despite having spent his entire functioning seducing bots for credits, at least when he wasn't slitting their throat cables or plugging in to ravage their processors for the Autobot cause, Jazz was shivering inside. These were the highest stakes he'd ever played for. While Prime had said that 'it had to be dealt with' his unit commander, Nightstalker, said in no uncertain terms that anything really meant <em>anything<em> this time, up to and including a spark bond to bring the Decepticon's new Chief Tactical Officer over to the Autobot side. Removing the mech wasn't enough. He had to be brought over.

Which lead Jazz to standing in front of this door, praying to Primus that he didn't have to go as far as a spark bond, or if he did, at least make the mech nice to look at. After a tense moment, he locked everything down, got his pleasurebot programming firmly in place and pinged for admittance.

It was the span of a few nanoseconds before the door slid open, accompanied by a stiff, short. "Enter."

The room that Jazz stepped into was standard size with standard issue furniture...and nothing else. There was nothing personal, no sign of _individual_ or _personality_ to mark it as an occupied room except for the fact that there was a black and white mech with crimson chest vents seated at the desk within.

Praxian. A Praxian mech.

Jazz's intakes didn't stutter by sheer force of will. Of all the ground-frames, Praxians were the most elegant, the most beautiful, at least as far as the silver minibot was concerned. Their multi-paneled sensor wings made them look like a flight-frame, and this one actually had a _full_ set, all three panels held swept up in a foreboding, 'I am in charge' manner that was nearly hardwired into most ground mechs to be intimidated by.

Bright, piercing golden optics, a rarity even before the war.

Oh Primus, he was a beauty.

Said mech finished his work, locking the datapad with a few efficient keystrokes before setting it aside and finally focusing on the intruder. "Yes?"

It took Jazz a moment to gather himself from the shock of actually _seeing_ his target for the first time.

"Well?" Prowl repeated in the same clipped, impatient and demanding tone.

"Umm, Soundwave sent me," Jazz managed.

Stern golden optics swept over the sleek silver frame from the elegantly backswept and branched sensory horns on his helm to the spread toes that took the weight instead of the wheel at his heel, though he could lift his toes and skate as long as he was moving at speed. Up and down the golden optics swept over him, judging, measuring and not quite finding wanting, though it was near thing.

"Purpose?" Prowl asked, sounding eerily like the communications expert with the query.

Jazz cycled his opalescent visor. Was there any other reason 'Jazz' was ever sent _anywhere_?

"To see to your needs," he phrased it carefully. "To ensure you relax and enjoy your evening."

"A working assistant would serve a more practical purpose." Prowl responded, bland and dismissive. "I have no need to relax."

He reached for another datapad.

"You're off duty," Jazz countered, not really needing to fake being confused. Though now that he thought about it, if _Soundwave_, the very definition of a workaholic taskmaster, thought this mech was overworking to the point he paid Jazz to intervene, it was a whole new level of bad. "You're to relax this evening. Soundwave's orders."

Prowl paused, the work of a moment to check the roster and discover that it was true, on both counts. He also took time to download the silver mech's file instead of a simple system ping to ensure the ID the silver mech broadcast had the clearance to be standing where he was.

The barest flicker of the golden optics as the datapad was locked, stacked with other, and locked away.

_Designation: Jazz._  
><em>Holocapture - match<em>  
><em>Faction: Decepticon Non-Combatant<em>  
><em>Function: Pleasurebot<em>  
><em>Rank: 5<em>

A rank 5 pleasurebot? Prowl considered the mech just inside his door. Such a mech would have been beyond his means as a civilian, before the Decepticons. That was the rank that served the upper middle class and lower upper class. A mech who knew how to do more than ... lay there and take it ... he'd heard it described as. Rank 7 was a courtesan, a pleasurebot valued for their social graces as much as their skill in the berth. The kind the nobility used.

"Orders are to be obeyed," Prowl responded coolly, not relaxing in the least.

"It doesn't have to be bad," Jazz cooed, stepped close to him, cautiously putting a hand on Prowl's shoulder to gauge his reaction to touch.

Golden optics turned to study the hand, the mech underneath neither leaning into the touch nor pulling away from it. "An unnecessary waste of resources."

"Isn't the ability to enjoy life, to have the opportunities others do, why you joined?" Jazz asked gently, sliding his fingers along the broad, strong shoulder as he came to stand behind the seated mech. He kept that hand in contact with Prowl's plating as he made his way to the sensor wings to brush the fingers of both hands along the first panel of each.

The barest twitch of the panels at the touch, reflected in subtle change in tone of the seated mech. "Opportunity to further my ability to serve, yes. Enjoyment has never been a part of my functioning."

Jazz's fingers stilled for a moment in shock before he focused on the sensor wings fully, intent on using every trick of his original function and his current one to drive this mech to overload and find the passion in him.

"Why not?" Jazz asked, his voice a low, harmonic hum just before he cycled on the magnetics in his palms.

"Unnecessary." Was the simple, and completely believed, reply. "Enjoyment of life served no purpose. It is a much more efficient use of time to recharge when not working."

Then the touch on his wings changed and the golden optics flared in surprise, a true reaction to something new and sensor shocking.

"Perhaps you never had something to enjoy," Jazz purred and repeated the pulse, his fingers expertly finding every sensor node and seam in reach of his nimble fingers. "Perhaps this evening you will learn something new," his rumble dropped a full octave as his EM field brushed against Prowl's, coaxing it to extend and accept being entwined with the pleasurebot's. "I am very good at what I do."

"Unnecessary." Prowl repeated. But his arguments were growing weaker, his field slowly blending with Jazz's. And there was something about the merging, not a conscious reluctance to participate, but a subconscious one, born of fear from not understanding what was going on, of loosing the iron control of _self_ that was a constant comfort to the mech against everything else that was beyond his control.

With a gentle, understanding smile that Prowl couldn't see Jazz pushed as comfort and certainty that it would be good into his field for Prowl to feel. It would be too. He'd seduced and overloaded far more reluctant mechs.

"Why don't you come to the berth," Jazz suggested softly. "It will be better."

Stubborn pristine white hands gripped the desk, seeking an anchor against the assault on his senses as Prowl tried once more to convince himself and the mech one last time that this kind of treatment was..."Unnecessary."

One more touch on his wings though, and Prowl knew he was a lost cause.

"There is more to functioning than work and recharge," Jazz whispered in his audial. "The purpose to functioning, to _working_ is to have the credits to enjoy the time you don't have to work. Please let me show you one such thing."

"What more?" A part of Prowl buried long ago surfaced, a part of him that existed to be curious without fear about something new. Especially something new that felt like this. Slowly the fingers uncurled from their death grip on the desk, wings pressing back into the hands on them.

"Pleasure," Jazz purred, gently kissing his way down the side of Prowl's neck. "Companionship." He sent another magnetic wave into the nearly trembling panels pressed against his palms. "Enjoyment."

Orders were orders. Or so the small part of Prowl's processor that was still concerned with such matters concluded as he stood, most of his attention focused on the mech behind him. "Berth?"

"Of course," Jazz purred, turning his attention to stroking the middle and lower panels now that they were at a convenient height. This angle also gave him a delicious view of the Praxian's white aft, and enough to be fairly sure that Prowl did not have any interfacing mods. That was okay. He could do a very good job with just his hands and glossa.

Despite the answer to his question Prowl stayed where he was, attention focused on the touch on his wings and the field still teasing at the edges of his own.

Those fingers, so incredibly distracting, gave a tiny bit more pressure, urging Prowl to move forward. It almost worked too, until Jazz kissed him on the sensor suite mount that was between the appendages. "Berth, lover," Jazz tried to urge him. "I want to show you how good a first time can be."

Prowl moaned, startling himself at his own reaction as he moved in the direction of the berth, allowing himself to be guided. It was unlike him, to give this much control to another mech without question.

But no other mech had ever done this to his doorwings either.

"Lay on your front," Jazz whispered against his back, still stroking the sensitive wings. His EM field encouraged compliance, promised pleasure in exchange.

The Praxian stretched out obediently on his front, doorwings quivering invitingly, begging for more without any conscious input, just a seeking of that promised something that was not yet understood.

"So lovely," Jazz murmured, mostly to himself, as he climbed on the berth and settled, straddling Prowl's hips to give him the best reach of the entire expanse. He dropped his vocalizations to a gentle hum and reached upwards to slide his hands, palms flat and fingers spread, along the entire length of the beautiful three-panel sensor appendages.

The first sweep earned him a surprised sounds from the Praxian, then whimpers and moans at the continuous motions across the sensitive wings.

Hints of shame and dismay still flickered through the touching EM fields, but they were drowned quickly enough that the mech experiencing them felt no real desire to fight the pleasure and the strange energy building in his systems.

"It will be best if you can relax and let it happen," Jazz crooned gently and turned on his palm-mags for the next sweep. "Your frame will lock up from the rush of energy. That's supposed to happen. It'll pass. Enjoy the pleasure, the heat, the overload I can offer."

A strangled cry as on the next pass as everything that the small silver bot had described happened. Forewarned, Prowl did not try to fight it, though as his frame went limp in the aftermath he was already trying to decide if he liked it.

"So lovely," Jazz murmured again, his hands continuing to stroke gently as Prowl eased down from the intensity that had frightened more than one mech away from interfacing for a while. "It becomes less disturbing in time, when it is no longer a new experience."

"If it is supposed to be good one would think that it wouldn't be disturbing." Prowl observed, falling back on analysis. Analysis was safe, something that he controlled, not that caused him to loose control.

From his initial experience, despite the reassurance of the mech seated on him, Prowl was not sure why anyone would allow that to be done to them on a regular basis. While the sensation on his doorwings had been amazing- he stifled a groan- was still amazing, the trade off was too high.

"The new and intense is often disturbing," Jazz reminded him, bringing his hands inward to stroke down the center of Prowl's backstrut. "I intend for you to be accustomed to overloading by the time I leave."

A shiver ran through the larger mech beneath him, the physical echoed in EM fields. Wanting more and denial of that want. The curiosity that had been reawakened and the attempt to bury it once more before it could interfere and cause pain. Lingering fear from the loss of control and the thought that he might be willing to let it happen again.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Jazz murmured, pushing as much reassurance into his own field, and thus into the mech below him, as he could. His hands ran back up the mech's backstrut. "Pleasure is a good thing."

Prowl was vibrating beneath him. It wasn't physical pain that he feared, still trying to work out how this pleasure was a good thing when it worked against so much that he knew and been taught.

His purpose in function was the efficient fulfillment of his duties to maximum capacity. He had no need of recreation or companionship. Anything that was not related to his duties was not worthy of his time or energy.

But this small silver mech, so very warm against his back, was causing him to question all of that.

Skillful fingers worked along his sensor wings once more, playing the sensitive expanse like an instrument of exquisite pleasure.

"You look amazing in pleasure," Jazz murmured as he stroked the three-panel wings he already adored. "You _feel_ amazing. I want you to feel as amazing to yourself as you do to me."

Small moans escaped the mech stretched out on the berth and at his mercy. "Possible?" Prowl asked.

"Very possible," Jazz purred. "But you have to be willing, you have to _want_ it." He leaned forward and ran his glossa along the center of the sensor suite housing between the elegant wings. "I bet you'd even work more efficiently if you completely relaxed tonight."

A whimper at the extra wave of good that rippled through him, and a crumbling of the resistance, cracks appearing in the wall that the Praxian had tried to maintain between them as his back arched, placing his wings on full display and allowing Jazz better access to everything.

It was a challenge. A question that Prowl wanted to know the answer to and currently only had one reliable source of data. Which logically meant that he should utilize it fully.

"Yes," Jazz shivered at the display. He had to hold himself back from ravaging the gorgeous mech so willingly under him now. Oh, he so desperately wished Prowl had the penetrative module. To be under this strong frame, his valve spread wide by the spike it would possess, driven against the berth until Prowl roared his overload and filled him with transfluid.

It was more than enough to make Jazz have to restrain a whimper at the desires he would likely never have fulfilled. A nanoklik later the building tension dissipated when his pleasurebot programming caught the errant thought and squelched it. It couldn't stop his valve from growing slick though. It was just a matter of time before the perceptive Praxian noticed the lubrication seeping from Jazz's PIM cover.

Instead he focused another program and his top of the line pleasurebot mods and scanned Prowl's frame more completely, looking for the less obvious spots that would bring this mech intense pleasure.

With his hands working those incredible wings, Jazz leaned forward to trail a line of licking kisses down the back of Prowl's neck.

An immediate reaction as Prowl gasped in surprise and the rest of the resistance fell apart, helm moving to give Jazz more access to his neck. The touches on his neck, the intense pleasure of his wings and the burning heat of the frame stretched over his own - Prowl felt the charge building again and this time welcomed it openly.

Jazz did his best to go slowly, to build the pleasure and the charge in a gradual rise to bring a more intense overload. His own arousal, the pleasure he was taking in causing pleasure, bled freely into his field, and from it into Prowl's.

Yet during none of it did he loose track of how strongly Prowl reacted to his neck. When the mech was moaning constantly he gave a gentle nip, testing if the illusion of violence did it for him.

Momentary distraction as Prowl tried to figure out how Jazz found being the one to cause pleasure, pleasure in and of itself. It was a distraction that was instantly forgotten at the nip, the sudden change in pressure and all of the possibility, all of the implication and potential and the charge it sent through him. He whimpered and shuddered, fear and the foreign concept of excitement racing through him.

Jazz laved the spot with his glossa, even though he hadn't actually bitten hard enough to cause real pain, much less damage.

Then he nipped a spot a little further down and revved his engine hard against Prowl's upper back, right between the wings.

The frame beneath him locked up, vocalizer cutting out at the rush of energy intense enough to carry over into the small silver mech.

This time as the energy dissipated the Praxian frame went limp, completely relaxed, possibly for the first time since he was brought online. Golden optics went dim, not offline but close, and the satisfaction resulted in another new action.

The slightest hum and vibration from the satiated mech as Prowl literally purred in contentment.

"Yes," Jazz breathed in near awe at how _good_ it felt to his systems. Even if he hadn't been under orders he'd have fought Unicron himself to have this mech for his own. His spark was pulsing fast, his systems humming and nearly burning up. This never happened. It just didn't. He was a pleasurebot to his core, summoned from the Allspark to be exactly what he was. Pleasurebots didn't fall in love. They didn't become attached. They didn't even have personal needs other than to pleasure their clients while on duty. Hardware and software alike were designed to dissipate charge and heat fast and effectively as much as they were to accept any impute as pleasure if it was desirable to the client.

Yet Prowl had him more revved up already than most lovers did after a joor of teasing his frame and even his specialized systems couldn't handle it.

"Prowl?" he asked, code and need conflicting. "May I overload myself?"

He was prepared for a no. He had to be. He knew it would _hurt_ to deny his body. He could though, if need be. He had before.

"May I watch?" Prowl asked, not even a break in the purr as he stretched his doorwings, processor working to sort through all of the data and input even as his conscious attention turned to the mech on his back.

"Of course," Jazz smiled down at him. "I'd like it if you watched."

"Yes." The permission granted with anticipation.

Jazz's engine gave a rev as he slid off Prowl's back to lie on his back next to the larger mech. He was careful to position himself so Prowl could see most of him, especially his pelvic span, without having to move much.

"I'll clean up," Jazz promised as he slid his hands sensuously down his chassis, from above his headlights down. He took his time, caressing his form and keenly aware he was putting on a show.

Sharp golden optics followed his hands, noting every motion, every movement, and filing it away as Prowl watched.

The Praxian's cooling systems even kicked up a notch when it occurred to his processor that those same wonderful hands had been touching him not so very long ago, and the imagination of those motions on his frame causing a reaction.

The soft moans, sounds he recognized as similar to his own, made it that much more enticing as Jazz reached his hips and dug his fingers in deep.

Jazz's hips nearly arched off the berth with a strangled cry of growing need. His interface panel snapped open and slid into his armor to expose both spike and valve housing. Despite his efforts, Jazz's spike quickly pressurized to stand proud and hard above his groin.

Captivated, Prowl reached out, catching himself just before he touched the silver mech. Watching. He had only asked to watch.

"Oh Primus," Jazz's opalescent visor brightened at the motion and he moaned in anticipation. "Please, if you want to touch ... _please_ touch."

Fingers ghosted lightly, barely touching. Prowl started at the hips, his fingers tracing up to touch that spike, something he heard of but not seen and certainly never experienced in any form.

Jazz's vents hitched, his vocalizer humming and buzzing as he struggled to keep himself from thrusting into the touch. "Ohhh _Prowl_," he moaned, his gaze fixated on Prowl's hand, his fingers.

A glance of the golden optics, evaluating, than the same light touches, curious and exploring as they took in everything. The feel, the texture, the heat and charge. Unlike what the medical texts described it as, this spike was fairly elaborate. Textured with four braided spirals from base to the slit at the tip; gold, bronze, brass and silver. Fine opalescent overlapping scales covered the rest, making the rod-shaped length with a lightly tapered head match the visor that was beginning to glow brightly.

A bit of movement drew Prowl's attention briefly to Jazz's hands as he lifted them above his head to grip the edge of the berth.

It did not seem like an act of discomfort, and the sounds still coming from the smaller mech indicated the opposite as well. Still, Prowl stopped, wondering.

"Please don't stop," Jazz cried through the static in his vocalizer. His hips arched up, seeking more contact even as his fingers tightened on the berth edge. "Please. Do anything ... please touch me," he begged shamelessly, more than willing to appeal to any kind of control nature or need of reassurance this beautiful mech wanted _if he'd just keep touching him_.

The touch returned, a light, squeezing pressure running the length of the spike, optics trained on the pleading mech to gauge the reaction, seeking some sort of input or instruction. Input was in plentiful supply. Jazz's voice was open and free with his moans. His EM field was thick with pleasure, desire ... _need_. Jazz's hips rolled into his stroke, shorting its time but taking a bit of control for the desperate mech.

Fingers tightened even more against the berth as electricity began to arc randomly along Jazz's frame. Each time one connected with his spike or valve he tensed and screamed, his EM field flaring hotly into Prowl's to share some of the charge and flood the larger mech with how _good_ this felt.

"Just ... little ... more," Jazz panted, his hips rolling in a smooth tandem with Prowl's strokes.

In compliance with the request, pressure increased and the hold altering to add something in response, the shared charge tickling at Prowl and causing his systems to heat once more.

Even knowing it was coming, when Jazz's lithe frame bowed off the berth, then arched to drive his hips up with a scream that shorted Jazz's vocalizer it was startling. Even more startling was the explosive spurting of a viscous purple-tinged fluid from the tip of the spike with each drive of the hips upwards.

Recovering quickly, Prowl studied the fluid now coating his hand, managing to ignore the bits of energy teasing along his own frame for the moment. His attention drifted back to the silver mech on his berth, armor fully expanded, his fans and vents on full and his mouth still gasping for even more air to cool overheated systems.

Yet the field tangled with his own was one of an incredibly happy mech, worn out but content.

"So this is what you meant by clean up." Prowl reflected, not at all upset as he settled on the berth, clean hand reaching out to run over silver mechs armor lightly.

"Yes," Jazz managed as his systems cooled. While the process was quick relative to the average mech, it was a rare enough occurrence for him to overheat that it took a fair amount out of him. "I can overload the way I caused you to, but this is faster."

"One method is more effective than the other?" It was a question of honest curiosity.

Deep vents began to settle as silver armor pinged, cooling quickly. "If the goal is to overload quickly, then yes. Some methods take more skill or time to work. The absolute fastest is a spark merge. Hardline connection can be almost as fast. But of solo methods, spike stimulation definitely works best for me, and for most mechs."

"Interesting." Prowl murmured, still surprisingly relaxed and accepting. "That upgrade must be more common than I knew."

"I've only met a handful old enough to interface who didn't have it," Jazz answered truthfully as he pulled a rag out of subspace and began an efficient cleanup of his frame and the berth where his valve lubricant had began to pool under him.

"So now what?" Prowl asked, watching the cleanup with mild interest, more so when Jazz got his spike to depressurize and back inside its housing. It was a process that wasn't as smooth as he'd expected.

"Well, I can overload you until you drop into recharge," Jazz offered. "We can do a little mutual exploration, more like lovers would. If you're ready to recharge, I'll leave you be."

Prowl stretched on the berth, doorwings splaying wide before falling into a resting state, considering his options. Finally he reached a conclusion. "There is still a deficiency in my knowledge, and I am not yet to the point that my systems require I recharge. Therefore the first two are viable options."

He studied the silver mech. "There was not a time listed for your departure. There are others you are to tend to as well?"

"Next orn," Jazz agreed with a lazy, somewhat cheeky smile. "Or whenever I'm satisfied my instructions to get you to relax and recharge a full six joors are fulfilled, whichever comes second. What do you want me to do for you?"

The Praxian went still, unsure how to respond to the question. This was all new to him, experience he only had theory knowledge of before tonight. While he had heard stories he was the first one to always require truth, and many of the stories had sounded impossible.

"This is your assignment, is it not?" The answer was evasive, and far from his normal controlling habits, but fitting in his processor as well. "It is up to you to meet the requirements set as you deem most efficient."

The answer, the outcome, would also allow Prowl more insight into the mech. A chance to see if he was worthy of the time and processor power Prowl was delegating to study him.

Jazz regarded him seriously, not even his optic band hiding the fact that there was a serious internal debate going on inside that silver helm.

"Do you wish to learn more?" Jazz asked softly, reached out to brush the back of his fingers lightly along Prowl's cheek plates. He kept his EM field painfully neutral; this was his _function_ he reminded himself sternly. It was about what his client wanted, not his own desires.

"Of course." Knowledge was fuel and power, and seeking and utilizing knowledge was a key component of Prowl's functioning. Already he was evaluating the state of the EM field brushing his own, comparing it to the touch on his face and weighing it against the current visible tension in the silver mech.

"Then let's start with a kiss," Jazz murmured, relaxing his grip on his field to allow the arousal and desire there to flow freely once more. He leaned forward, shifting his hand to stroke the back of Prowl's neck and helm, and lightly brushed their lips together. "At its best kissing can be nearly as good as interfacing."

A low hum of thought as Prowl followed his guide through the motion, than reached up to touch Jazz, copying the kiss perfectly. The light touch was intriguing, the feeling pushing Prowl to repeat it for reasons he could not yet define.

Jazz offered a hum of approval in return for the kiss, encouraging Prowl to be forward. Another brush of lip plates and he ghosted his glossa over Prowl's lips.

A momentary pause as the deviation was noted and evaluated before Prowl's lips parted to discover what it was like to be on the giving end of that same motion. Jazz's lips were smooth, warm, pliant ... and they opened, offering access to his oral cavity. Access was read as invitation, glossa sliding in to explore.

Without actual consideration of the matter Prowl's entire frame shifted to a more upright position, allowing him better access to the small silver mech. He noted that Jazz shifted to, offering a little more of his frame to the new angle.

Jazz's hands found new places to move, to caress. One settled on Prowl's gleaming red chevron, stroking the sensitive metal, while the other reached back to stroke the leading edge of a sensor wing.

The touch to his chevron like this was new, demanding his attention, while the sensation on his wings was more familiar and welcome save that both of them seemed to suddenly demand his entire attention and Prowl felt stretched between them, tensing. The hand on his wing moved back to his neck and Jazz's glossa slid along his own, encouraging him to continue exploring.

With no resistance the exploration continued, Prowl's glossa sweeping over Jazz's and loosing that edge of focus after a klik as one of the larger mechs hands rose to hold and touch Jazz's helm, sliding over the silver mech looking for any sort of changes the variation would cause. When he brushed against the base of the elegantly swept sensory horns he felt and heard the hitch in the mech's intakes right along with the eager moan that rolled over his glossa and into his mouth.

Jazz's chassis curled forward, pressing against Prowl's eagerly, the heat beginning to rise in the silver frame once more.

Surprised by the intensity of the response Prowl repeated the motion, paying more attention to the sensory horns as an arm wrapped around Jazz to balance them.

Jazz moaned again, his chassis shivered in pleasure as his glossa finally became active, stroking against Prowl's. He was still submissive, still only guiding as much as the larger mech needed, but there was no masking the pleasure and desire in his field as it thrust into Prowl, setting the Praxian's chest circuits ablaze with energy.

The moan that escaped Prowl at the energy was sincere, the pleasure overruling even the returning concern at the lack of total control over his own responses. Caught between the pleasure and the desire, Prowl responded. Another wave of energy pushed into him, this one stronger, reaching all the way to his spark casing and making the delicate structure tingle, almost burn with pleasure.

The silver mech pressed his entire chassis against him again with a third wave of glorious pleasure and Jazz's glossa pressed into Prowl's mouth, sliding across the Praxian's glossa and mapping the space it called home.

He did not fight it, the pleasure and the loss of control, having already learned that lesson well. Instead he let them roll over him, processor divided as one part stored the initial analysis for later review, and another part of him simply _felt_.

It wasn't passion, not yet. But it was an allowance that he was willing to try something new, and that maybe, maybe, he was willing to actually let go.

It was more than enough to cause Jazz to tremble, to push his pleasurebot programming to its limit to control his reactions. With a moaning whimper of growing need he pushed his field into Prowl again and held it there at full extension, allowing everything he felt to spill into the larger mech as his hands reached forward, seeking those exquisite wings once more.

Prowl quivered at the still new sensations pushing at him, at the overwhelming needs of another so close to him, inside of him, and made an allowance. Wings swept forward into seeking hands with a sense of permission. Jazz's kiss became more needy, more intense, as his arousal spiraled largely out of his control. Yet despite the need, the thrust of his field and the seeking hands, he never crossed the line to an actual _demand_. He desired, intensely so, but never demanded. Core programming saw to that much. A pleasurebot _could not_ become demanding while working without specific instructions to do so.

The touches to his wings, skillful and passionate, drained at the control Prowl was maintaining. His resistance was fading more quickly with each encounter with the small silver bot, and this realization was flagged to be evaluated later, since it did not cause as much concern as it should.

Instead of devoting more attention to the question Prowl's hand came up, teasing at the sensory horns of the smaller mech to see if that would fill some of the intense need he felt but knew was not his own.

A low, trembling moan escaped from Jazz's mouth and into Prowl's. The lithe silver frame trembled with need, burning hot and pressed against Prowl's frame with shameless abandon.

::Oh Primus, Prowl,:: Jazz opened a ultra short range comm. ::Need ya pleasure so much.::

::Need mine?:: The Praxian questioned, not understanding what was being asked of him as he continued to stroke at the silver mechs helm, finding he liked the way the smaller frame pressed against his own, welcoming contact he normally avoided. The bright, charged EM field that flared into him with every stroke of the horns felt intoxicating, the same feeling he had read about from high grade. It was _good_ too.

::Pleasurebot,:: Jazz whimpered, shaking. ::Can't overload without my client or permission.::

::Which would you prefer?:: Prowl asked, trying to gauge the feeling he was starting to recognize as the charge that led up to overload compared to that of the mech in his arms.

::Your overload,:: Jazz answered honestly. Oh, how very much he wanted the mech next to him to overload, to feel Prowl go over the edge just before him. ::You're so beautiful.::

A moments hesitation, unsure, before the doorwings pressed harder into his touch, mouth against his, and the sense of Prowl simply letting go of everything that was holding him back, of analyzing and evaluating, as he traded thinking for feeling.

It was all Jazz needed to give in to his own baser desires to draw the larger mech on top of him. His fingers still working those gorgeous wings, his field deep, hot and highly charged wove around Prowl's internals. He knew Prowl didn't have the understanding yet to grasp the signals. He didn't have the equipment to pound into Jazz the way the minibot wanted it the most. But he was larger and heavier than Jazz, and that was enough for the pleasurebot to fantasize as he pressed his skills into use.

Jazz didn't want a fast overload ... not completely. He wanted an _intense_ one for Prowl. He wanted to show the virgin mech something new with every encounter.

::So lovely, so wonderful,:: Jazz murmured as Prowl plundered his mouth and press his wings into Jazz's hands. ::Ohhh, you feel so good.::

Prowl's field reached out, flooding more than feeling or weaving into the smaller mech's as Prowl responded to the encouragement, to the words and sentiments never directed to him before and so new as to be almost baffling.

::Tell me what to do.::

::You're kissing good,:: Jazz began with what was _perfect_, at least for a first real kiss. Instead of words he sent a small file on the basics of field manipulation and focused on guiding Prowl's field through the simple but intimate process of meshing with another mech's. For his own indulgence he shifted his hips to bring a leg up, sliding it along Prowl's.

The movement of the leg was noticed and promptly dismissed in favor of more immediate and intimate subjects. The file was opened, analyzed, and matched with action as he followed Jazz through the merging, suddenly aware of how much more he could feel and suddenly wanting to try it out.

Reaching, he ran a hand lightly over a sensor horn, glossa invading to explore instead of dominate as he attempted to feed just the sensations the smaller mechs hands caused on his doorwings, the building energy between them, into the Jazz.

Jazz moaned and writhed under him, completely caught up in the sensations, in feeding them across the meshed fields, and using his new connection to make his hands on those delectable sensor wings even better.

So caught up was he in the sharing that Prowl didn't notice the level of charge until the overload struck, racing through him and blinding him to everything but the intense pleasure tearing through him and spilling over through every connection cultivated with the mech pinned beneath him. Then the pleasure redoubled as it slammed into him from the minibot's long-delayed overload, sending him from whiteout to blissful blackout.

He began to boot to the sensations of contentment, satiation, warmth ... and the presence of another very content mech at the periphery of his awareness.

Momentary alertness jolted through Prowl, easing just as quickly as memory, including the reason for his blacking out, returned. He studied the feelings of his companion, noting how they matched up with his own, and allowed himself to feel them, despite how frivolous the logical part of him considered his indulgence.

A fleeting thought that his weight might be uncomfortable, even damaging, and he found the coordination to pull back, lifting his frame with more effort than should have been required for such a simple task.

"Shu, you're good where you were," Jazz assured him with a contented purr underlying his words and his hands resting on Prowl's shoulders. "I like your weight."

"Heavy." Prowl countered as he allowed himself to be guided back down, strangely content with the proximity of the silver mech and also aware through the still meshed EM fields. Satisfied with the reassurance and the idea that he would know if conditions changed later on, the purr of his own systems started, the only sound in the small quarters for the moment.

"Warm," Jazz murmured with a kiss, then trailed them down Prowl's jaw to his throat. "You feel very good."

"Feel good?" Prowl repeated, trying to work through that. He certainly felt good, but was rather sure that was not what the small mech was implying.

"The echo through your field, your weight on me," Jazz murmured between kisses down the left side of Prowl's throat. "You fit so perfectly against me."

Prowl hummed as he processed that, approval for how good the attention to his neck was rising easily, and with it the knowledge that his systems were up to one more of those strangely wonderful overloads that Jazz pulled from him, but no more.

"Some energon will let you go another couple rounds, if you'd like," Jazz purred, his glossa slipping around one of the larger cables to draw it gently into his mouth and hummed around it. "I know a couple other methods we haven't tried that we can ... though you'd have to trust me with a hardline."

Prowl firmly ignored the sensations on his neck for the few moments it took him to check his defenses. They were all current and running at full capacity, giving him no reason to reject the hardline on that count. Nothing the smaller mech had done to him so far had brought him anything but pleasure, yes- he would admit to it as that- and contentment.

Head tilting to the side and optics flickering he rumbled softly. "I am willing."

The smaller mech shivered in anticipation and slid a panel on his lower collar open, revealing both port and cable. "The connection's just like for data sharing. The input is just run through different protocols," Jazz explained. "Pull up the ones labeled 'hardline interfacing' and stick them as primary. Then just plug in."

Ever thorough, Prowl followed the instructions to the letter, bracing himself as he completed the connection. Instead of the rush the protocols implied, Jazz was barely more than a light brush against his firewalls when the pleasurebot's jack seated firmly in his port.

Jazz sighed in pleasure, his firewalls very limited in his upper processor, only strengthening lower down, where the important data and protocols were. Only when Prowl relaxed a bit did Jazz send a gentle pulse across the hardline, directly stimulating Prowl's pleasure protocols.

The adjustment to having someone connected to him like this again was not terribly difficult to make. The idea and then the confirmation of that first touch that this connection served no other purpose than to make him feel good took an extra sort of adjustment, implementing protocols that had never been touched since he had first started functioning vorns ago.

He curbed his initial reaction- to stop the energy in its place and thoroughly inspect it- and instead just sort of glanced at is as spread out along unblocked paths and accepted the warmth it left behind before offering a similar pulse of energy in return.

Under him Jazz moaned, encouraging him, and responded with another pulse as he became generally aware of the systems now periphery to his own. ~So beautiful, inside and out.~ he moaned across the hardline. ~Primus you are beautiful.~

Prowl's systems stuttered for a moment at the compliment, the repeated insistence that he was something he had never seen himself as, nor could he ever recall being referred to as such. ~Thank you.~ He finally responded, though of out proper manners more than any acknowledgment that the idea might well be truth.

Instead he felt his way deeper in the smaller mech, not pushing hard but still systematically working his way through the presence. Feeling, wondering at what made the small mech act as he did, a function Prowl had not explored on any level before tonight, and all the while testing out different pulses of energy, recording the feedbacks and flagging the ones that earned the best responses for later use.

He also paid close attention to the curious fact that Jazz was letting him in quite deeply. Not so far that he could do much damage, but far, far deeper than he allowed Jazz. Much of the mech's history, Jazz's feelings on it, his thoughts ... so much of the mech was laid bare for Prowl's perusal.

It was offered, so he looked, pausing here and there and still mindful what he was doing, watching to see if he came across anything sensitive or reactive that the mech might have forgotten to lock up. As he learned he reevaluated his own blocks, loosening some and dropping others all together.

His functioning before he had joined the Decepticons was opened, his purpose and his initial satisfaction as a low level city organizer, turning his processor to whatever task was his that orn and satisfaction at completing those tasks. So often working alone and being content with that, the truth behind earlier statement about the need or desire for pleasure as part of his functioning resurfacing.

Truth and half truth- fulfillment of his programming had brought him all the satisfaction he had needed, and so he had never gone in search of anything beyond it. Now the fleeting half formed thought that he if had _known_ about this he might have expended the energy, but nothing solid.

~Glad you didn't,~ Jazz moaned into the connection, gently drawing Prowl's attention to the programming laws Jazz functioned under as a pleasurebot.

Forbidden to overload on duty unless his client did or specifically permitted it.

Forbidden to interface or self-pleasure on duty unless with a client.

Bound to accept any desires his client expressed as his own.

Bound to accept any client, any act, his master agreed to, for any price his master agreed to.

~For the right price, I can be ordered to overload as my spark is crushed,~ Jazz admitted softly, the tone of his processors one of trust, of offering up a guarded piece of information.

An initial cold, factual analysis of those laws, of sorting them and categorizing to understand the how and why.

Then a gentle acknowledgment of that trust, surprising the one offering it as much as the one it was being offered too. An awkward desire to offer comfort, and a sort of promise of safety for as long as he was in Prowl's presence.

And questions, ever more questions, brought to the surface at the new understanding of what it meant to experience functioning as a pleasurebot, of an edge of that functioning still beyond Prowl's current ability to comprehend.

Instead of all the questions only one was offered in form. ~This is your reason for seeking freedom?~

~Yes,~ Jazz murmured, shivering internally as a memory drifted up unbidden.

Another pleasurebot, a soft blue and green femme a bit larger than himself. Her expression ... fear, resignation, grief, relief ... as she left their owner's office and walked towards the lifts to the rooms of the upper stories. A glance at Jazz and a quick comm burst, the most she was allowed.

::Snuffer.::

It and a designation were all she said, all she needed to say.

It was a word in their dialect that was as desired as it was feared.

She was going to that room to be extinguished for another's pleasure, yet her last moments would be of bliss.

Jazz had bowed his head in acknowledgement and began to pass the news around. Just two words, two designations. Hers and her snuffer. She would be gone but never forgotten. Not as long as anyone who had served by her side existed.

Her designation had been Brightlight.

Anger, grief, raging denial ... emotions that the Praxian kept under strict control, rarely acknowledging himself and never allowing others to see him feel flooded from Prowl before being locked up again, as quickly as they had come.

Shame at his slip in expressing them, though for once not at actually feeling them. Distraction as other emotions, no less strong but less intense and easier to manage filled the gap left by the others.

Thankfulness that the mech with him had escaped that fate. Sorrow, as part of his own programming, pushed aside in favor of his other talents, rose. Conviction that he was doing the right thing, wanting to free those who had suffered as he had suffered, and those who had suffered so much more, from the senselessly strict laws that governed their kind and did so much harm.

~You still serve this master?~

~No,~ Jazz said with open relief as he pulled up another memory.

His master, a convoy class mech with the finish and polish of very successful business owner. Having to look up and up, even as he presented a credit chit to the shocked giant.

The sputtering, cursing and outrage expressed.

The private smugness when Jazz had called in an enforcer, a mech with Protihex city markings, to force his master to accept the credits and hand over Jazz's ownership codes to Jazz.

~I am good. Very good. I worked hard. Worked smart. Saved every credit I could and spent only what was smart to,~ Jazz's defiance and pride blazed through them both. ~I bought myself. It's complex, sometimes distracting, but I am my own master now.~

A faint impression of amusement at Jazz's justified smugness, and a very strong sense of approval at what the small mech had done, how he had won despite the system he had found himself dropped into. A fading of the aggressive desire to protect that had risen in Prowl, irrelevant since the mech against him was in no danger.

A pulse of energy along the connection as Prowl's helm dropped to rest lightly on Jazz's. ~A fact of which I find myself surprising thankful, on all counts.~

~You barely know me,~ Jazz murmured, openly surprised and very, very pleased at the reaction. Before Prowl could respond, he found his attention drawn to a bit of Jazz that was more carefully shielded than the upper levels.

The intensity and _truth_ behind what Jazz had called him left the Praxian reeling.

Beautiful. Desire. Want. Approval.

So much desire.

Beauty that had stunned Jazz into his silence at the door.

Not a single string of it linked to pleasurebot coding.

A tiny trickle of knowledge that Jazz had done far more than bought himself. He'd broken some of his core coding.

Pleasurebots did not know love, attachment, desire to keep ... such things were not for their caste. They were defects.

Jazz had been shocked to feel them in response to Prowl. Shocked and greedy to embrace them as a further mark of his freedom.

Above him Prowl trembled, confronted with things that he had never felt towards anyone and still didn't understand being directed towards _him_.

Panic that could not be completely contained by his self control slipped out. Discomfort, pain, _frustration_ linked to old memories carefully buried rose again, parts of him he had been ordered to ignore, to forget, so that he might function better, more efficiently.

All of this directed at himself.

~Ordered?~ Jazz locked onto a tiny fragment, traced it and tugged until the memory attached to it was pulled up. All the while wrapping Prowl in as much support/protection/desire as he could.

Hesitation. Reluctance. Core programming bound hand in hand with ingrained conditioning to _obey_.

Then openness as the blocks were pushed forcefully aside and Jazz was allowed to see and feel as Prowl had once seen and _felt_.

The first awareness of self, followed by a spark deep sense of curiosity at everything. A need to know and to analyze that was very happy when presented with an initial orientation of this new existence.

Then the testing, the evaluation, the first exposure to displeasure directed at him. Initial satisfaction at his planning skills, his ability to organize data and crunch numbers. Good. He was good.

Then displeasure as other bits of code registered as stronger than initially anticipated. His desire to protect and preserve far stronger than was suited for their purpose. His need for balance projected as a hindrance to his intended function. Bad. He was a failure.

Talk of reprogramming. Of selling him off and making another attempt. The decision to move forward anyway, and Prowl was introduced to his job. Initially he had performed as expected, better than expected. Then problems as he was given more complex assignments, his plans returned for not meeting the guidelines.

Prowl's protests - too many unnecessary risks, too many cut corners.

And every time instructed to meet the bottom line.

Then the accident. An accident that resulted in the ceased functioning of so many. From one of his altered plans. The next time he had refused to make the alterations, to invent conforming alternatives.

And then the new orders. To forget that need to preserve. To ignore his need for balance and slant everything in favor of his masters. Pain as he did as ordered, going against his own core programming, rewriting what he could and burying as ordered what he could not, and then frustration as he obeyed and never fully accepted.

Becoming cold, working alone. Forcing himself to be satisfied and settling into a functioning that was tolerable and shutting himself away from the outside world for the sake of his own survival, seeing what was going on but not allowing himself to feel about it. To feel anything worthwhile.

Until Megatron came.

Jazz nuzzled him, physically and mentally.

~All that and it is still not safe for you to feel,~ the minibot murmured sadly.

A muted sound of stressed agreement, and internally a tremble that he would not, could not express where others could see. If all he was going to feel was pain and suffering than surely it was better to not feel at all.

~It is worth the pain,~ Jazz said firmly. ~It takes work, hard work to find them, but the joys are worth the pain. Friends, laughter, music, love ... I'm still learning that last one. By all rights I shouldn't know it, shouldn't be capable of it, but I am. The good outweighs the bad, if you want it to.~

~Don't know any of those.~ The quiet confession, the feeling that he wasn't sure if he could learn them anymore, after functioning as he had for so long. And yet reaching out, and the unformed question of what they felt like.

With a smile Jazz opened up more memories, their age ranging from his early functioning to very resent. The time-stopping pleasure/glory/processor-expanding nature of loosing himself in music. Laughing at jokes over a cube of energon with friends. A friendly race with different friends. The pleasant nature of cycling up for the orn with a warm chassis against his own, one that hadn't paid for his services.

Prowl touched each of them in turn, trying to understand, daring to feel by proxy. And finding himself envious, coveting what Jazz had, wanting it for himself and fearing getting it at the same time.

The music was curious, something he had never considered as a possible source of enjoyment. Jokes...were foreign to him, but the joy of being with friends struck him. And he returned to the last one several times, curious.

In response, Jazz brought up more memories of the like. Different mechs, different times, and one memory for contrast of cycling up with a mech who had paid him to be there. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was a very different emotional sensation when Jazz was only there for the credits.

Prowl wandered through them all, offering thanks when he reached the end for he had nothing to offer in return but that, and for the night, himself, if Jazz wanted.

~I want,~ Jazz admitted shakily, the very thought going against core programming. Pleasurebots _wanted_ nothing but what they were told to want. Yet Jazz did, and he wanted very badly. ~You don't owe me, Prowl. I'm here for you.~

Prowl nuzzled against him, using the same motion of comfort that Jazz had used on him not so long ago. Maybe it was Jazz that did not understand...everything that he had reminded Prowl that he had once been, and feeding the small flicker of hope that Prowl guarded closely, hope that he had not let anyone see until now.

Holding Jazz a little closer he vented softly. ~If you must, then consider it satisfaction for my sense of balance.~

With a gentle brush against Prowl's processors, Jazz smiled and kissed him. ~That you will enjoy having me here when you cycle up for the orn is enough to silence the code,~ he purred and sent an intentional burst of energy across the hardline. ~I will enjoy bringing you out of recharge as a lover would.~

The energy rippled through Prowl and was reciprocated with anticipation, quickly escalating until it wiped out all other thought. Only the pleasure existed in the pulsing energy between them. Physical cries, physical _sensation_ became secondary to the purity of ecstasy that came from direct pleasure protocol stimulation and energy pumped from another system into circuits primed to enjoy it.

The energy gained strength an intensity as it was passed back and forth between two beings who wanted to feel and were willing to give and receive, acting without consciously thinking. Selfish sense of me was lost in the joint pleasure that finally plunged Prowl into overload darkness and Jazz into a nanoklik long whiteout.

With a low, gentle hum of content code at a job well done and personal pleasure at his evening so far and the prospect of recharging, then cycling up with this beautiful mech, Jazz disconnected them and expertly coiled cables back in their place before settling into a light recharge cycle until Prowl came around again.


	2. Developments

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 02 Developments<p>**

* * *

><p>It had been a most productive shift, and Prowl had to concede that his company had been right. Jazz had amazed him at every turn, shown him a world he had never known existed, relaxed him so that he had recharged an entire allotted cycle, not just the minimum required for his frame type, and woken him in a most pleasant manner.<p>

When it had come time for Prowl to report to his shift he had found himself reluctant to let the silver minibot go, despite his knowledge of the mech's schedule and his own. Jazz had pulled things out of him that no one still functioning had seen. Prowl had shared things with Jazz that he was unwilling to share with anyone else, and he felt no regret over it, no fear.

Already he had arranged things so that when the mech visited next, provided he was not overridden, Prowl was on his schedule. An arrangement the Praxian was looking forward to with anticipation. Putting the finishing touches on several plans and making annotations to one that needed to be revised by those in charge he finished up his shift, taking a moment to submit several requests before shutting the terminal down and locking it.

It was almost disappointing, the thought that he was going to return to his quarters, to his old routine. The distraction had been pleasant, and one that Prowl would like to repeat more often. Perhaps- a ping on his comm distracted him from that line of thought, and it was with surprise that Prowl identified to origin.

He straightened unconsciously as he answered, even though there was no one there to see. :: Yes sir?::

::Query: Prowl consumed orn's ration.::

Well, he had downed one that morning, his reading indicating that his systems wanted the boost after the prior evenings activities, but that had been one of the emergency rations he kept in his own quarters, and not his ration for the orn. ::Not for the current orn. Readings indicate a need to refuel before recharging.::

::Query: Prowl will join Soundwave in the officer's recreation room for energon.::

::Of course sir.:: Gathering up the few datapads he had planned to take back to work on Prowl left his work station. ::Estimated arrival time: two breems.::

The extra few kliks factored in would allow for any hold ups along the way.

::Satisfactory,:: Soundwave replied and cut the comm line.

As it turned out, Prowl didn't need the full two breems. No one bothered him on the walk there, though everyone glanced at him. Exactly the way it always was.

His appearance in the rec room met with similar passing interest. Everyone always wanted to know who'd walked in, but that was where interest typically ended. This time Laserbeak flew from his master's shoulder to Prowl's.

"Master has the energon," the little symbiot chirred. "Special for you."

Prowl did not allow his curiosity to show, moving a sensor wing some to give Laserbeak more room as he crossed the space to join the waiting Soundwave. He noted only absently that the host was devoid of his symbiotic menagerie, leaving him looking like he was missing most of his frame. He stopped politely by the table, waiting for an offer before being seated. Present at Soundwave's invitation or not, Prowl was still the junior officer.

"Prowl: sit," Soundwave motioned to the empty chair, one designed for winged frames, and the glowing energon cube in front of it. "Soundwave and Prowl: not on duty."

It matched the cube Soundwave had and by the time he sat down, Prowl worked out that this wasn't standard grade. It wasn't high grade either, however. At least not the kind that was at the celebrations he had been ordered to attend.

"Energon: Mixmaster's personal formula." Soundwave supplied.

"Very hard to get," Laserbeak chirred and rubbed his head against Prowl's cheek plates. "Smooth and tasty."

The Praxian took his seat, tilting his head to momentarily study the symbiot. The display was one he had seen before and had always classified as affection. It was also something he was not sure he could ever recall being directed at any but Soundwave. When nothing else was offered by way of explanation he reached for the energon, raising it to Soundwave before taking a sip.

The energon was everything that Laserbeak had promised, stunning Prowl's senses. It was smooth, sliding across his glossa, the lingering taste rich and a whole new experience. He vented softly, replacing the cube carefully on the table and inclining his head to Soundwave. "Exquisite. My thanks. And I must also offer my thanks for my company last night, which I understand was also your doing."

"Prowl: should enjoy the freedoms we fight for," Soundwave said evenly, only the tiniest inflections in his voice. Yet to the mech who spoke with similar reserve, the approval was as clear as if said outright. "Freedoms to enjoy functioning."

The large blue mech seemed to hesitate fractionally as Ravage brushed against Prowl's pedes and took up a lounge behind the Praxian. A defensive posture to protect against whatever came while not actually expecting any trouble.

"Pleasurebot Jazz: very skilled. Suitable to introduce Prowl to such activities before others do," Soundwave continued after a small sip of his cube.

Sensor wings twitched slightly, following the path of the feline symbiot until Ravage settled, and after a moment of consideration went still. The surrounding protection was different, and Prowl slowly adjusted to being in such close proximity to others, focusing instead on Soundwave's most recent comment and confirming that this was not meant to a working meeting like he had first suspected.

He considered the possible layered implication of the words, and when he answered his tone was carefully neutral. "I was unaware I was being considered for such activities. I will pay more attention."

"Prowl: highly desirable to several mechs," Soundwave focused on him. "Prowl's best interests: not of concern to some. Advice: be cautious who is allowed in berth."

The first part was surprising, and before last night Prowl would have been even more surprised to hear that he was considered desirable. That fact that his best interests were not close to spark for many of this fellow faction members, on the other hand, was not.

"I shall," he replied, glancing to the side as Laserbeak fluttered on his shoulder again and starting to view his current location in a rather different light. Now that he was looking at it in the light of interest, Soundwave's actions seemed clear. A public display of sharing special, very hard to get energon. Two of the communication/Intel officer's most prized symbiots clearly displaying their protection of Prowl to any who would look. The statement that he and Soundwave were not on duty.

Yet with no solid evidence to act upon he settled for taking another sip of the energon, the flavor as intense this time as it had been the first. He could understand why it was so prized. He did not care to think about what Soundwave paid for it.

"Price: acceptable." Soundwave extended his EM field cautiously, only just brushing against Prowl's in an invitation for a slight bit of intimacy ... and a relatively blatant statement of his interest. There was no other reason to try.

Prowl's initial reaction was rejection of the contact, despite all the apparent effort to make him feel safe. Tension stiffened every inch of his frame, visible before he forced himself to relax. He weighed everything- his past against the present, today against where he had been at the same time yesterday. He had learned much in that short span of time.

Balance.

So he accepted the contact and simply limited what he allowed to slip into his field, constantly monitoring his own feelings. While he acknowledged it was far less of a defense against the mech seated across from him, it was hopefully an expression of his view of the situation at the time.

Across the new connection Soundwave pushed his understanding, acceptance and something Prowl was quite certain was pleasure.

"Exchange: mutual now," Soundwave told him. "Prowl will know some of what Soundwave experiences."

A tiny flicker of unease came from the symbiot host. "Prowl: desirable to Soundwave."

The Praxian's head tilted in acknowledgement as he analyzed the mutual exchange, and the confession. He relaxed a little more, not finding the admission troublesome, though it was not yet reciprocated on the same level.

Acceptance flickered through his field of the current arrangement. "Why?"

"Prowl: intelligent, insightful, logical, strong willed, dedicated ... caring," Soundwave listed the traits he found most appealing. "Prowl: desirable."

Many of those were traits that Prowl recognized in himself and he accepted them without question, taking the time to study the mech before him. The idea that he was desirable was still questionable to him, and now rather confusing. Jazz had expressed an extreme attraction to his physical appearance, but all of the characteristics that Soundwave had described had nothing to do with his frame shape.

Caring ... that one was still throwing his analysis off as well. Prowl had stopped caring long ago, or so he thought. And his initial observation of his fellow officer had resulted in conclusion that the mech existed for the same reason as Prowl- to function and to serve the bottom line. A re-evaluation was now in order.

"A host must care for their symbiots or they will find another," the blue mech answered the unspoken question. "I am their master. I am responsible for their well being in all ways. Any I would be with must have the ability to care about them as well."

New insight. The symbiots had always been devoted to Soundwave, but Prowl had believed they had no other choice. The implication that they remained with Soundwave out of a desire to do so implied that the large mech treated them well. Very well.

The new idea also roused Prowl's sense of curiosity, and he had to resist the urge to reach out to the symbiots nearby. Just because Soundwave was allowing them to remain so close to Prowl, perched on his shoulder, in Laserbeak's case, did not mean the contact would be welcomed or tolerated.

"You may," Soundwave caught the thought easily. "He will tell you when he wishes to be left alone."

"I will," the avian trilled. "Won't snip fingers off like with Starscream either," he cackled, apparently delighted with the memory.

Across their lightly meshed fields, Prowl felt Soundwave's amusement, though he couldn't tell if it was at the antics of the symbiot or the event. Either way Prowl was sure that Starscream had deserved whatever damage Laserbeak had done to his extremities and allowed that carry across as he reached out the symbiot perched on his shoulder, also extending his field just far enough to sense Ravage as well, not wishing to appear biased in his attention.

Laserbeak easily snuggled into his field, wrapping it around himself with a trilling coo. He pressed closer to Prowl's plating, taking up a posture that was similar to what he did with Soundwave when trying to disappear in plain sight.

It was what filtered across their fields as the symbiot meshed them that captivated Prowl's attention, however. Pleasure, happiness, a fierce protectiveness of Soundwave that was cautiously being extended to Prowl. More than anything, though, was a sense of _kin_ that did not come naturally to a race that were typically sparked in an adult frame ready to go to work.

On the tail of Laserbeak's emotions came Ravage. Feminine, a point the symbiot wanted to make abundantly clear. Ravage was a femme by choice, and Pit take anyone who objected. When no objection came from Prowl at the statement, she felt much the same as Laserbeak. Pleased with Prowl. Pleased at what was happening. Willing to kill, die or live for Soundwave and a very cautious indication that her loyalties could be extended to Prowl.

Sensor wings rose and tipped forward, shielding Laserbeak even more in an unconscious response from Prowl to the presence in his field. The idea that they were pleased with him was interesting, accepted. Their devotion to Soundwave was an insight to another facet of the mech, one that Prowl had the suspicion that not many were privilege to.

Distracted, he reached out more to Ravage, acceptance pointedly on the surface. Why would he object to her preference?

"Many do not believe symbiots are fully sentient, or even sparked," Soundwave said after savoring another mouthful of the energon, though he did not retract his mask to consume it. "Such a choice is thought beyond them."

Ravage simply purred, a deep rumbling sound that would have been threatening if Prowl couldn't feel exactly what it meant; the large symbiot was happy.

"Foolish." Prowl commented, clearly meaning those who underestimated the symbiots. But it also explained part of the reason that the small ones were so effective at what they did. The tactician was keenly aware that a lot of information he had to work with was a result the prowess of the symbiots.

He was also starting to find their presence somewhat soothing, though he was not sure that some of it was not the quality of the energon he was consuming.

"Overcharge: improbable," Soundwave supplied. "Potency: standard. Quality: improved. Conversation: continue in my quarters?"

Very clearly across their interlaced EM fields Prowl felt that Soundwave intended only conversation. It was simply a more private location.

It would also send another signal to those watching that Prowl was accepting the TIC's advances, though Prowl also knew that meant very little to most mechs here.

So it had nothing to do with the energon and everything to do with his own perceptions. Prowl filed that away as he inclined his helm. "That would be an acceptable distraction before recharge." While the public setting was an initial nice touch, and a now obvious claim, there were questions Prowl had that were not suitable for such a place.

Soundwave nodded and stood, politely waiting for Prowl to join him, half finished energon cubes in hand, before walking to the door. Buzzsaw swooped down from somewhere above to land on his master's shoulder. The two avians immediately began to chatter in their own very unusual dialect, a different language for all practical purposes and one beyond Prowl's understanding.

"Learn: in time," Soundwave told him as they walked down the corridor towards the officer's quarters where they both resided. "Symbiot language: very different."

Ravage took up her post on Prowl's side away from Soundwave, once more bracketing the Praxian in a protective sphere. It was the feline's thoughts that clued Prowl in to the fact than among those here, Prowl was considered the one in most need of protection. Soundwave was a fierce warrior, well known for decimating Autobot ranks at Megatron's side even though comm and Intel were his official functions. Prowl had yet to see a battle in person, though if Megatron and Starscream were to be believed, that was likely to change soon. His rank was too high to remain shielded from it for much longer; Decepticon culture demanded strength and battle readiness in its officers. As the technical 5th in command, Prowl could no longer afford to remain detached from the front lines and the mechs he sent to die.

Or rather, Megatron could no longer afford to allow Prowl to remain detached.

Rather than be offended by this assessment, Prowl evaluated it and found a very high probability that the assessment was accurate. Which meant that the next logical steps were determining his weaknesses, and what skills he possessed that could be used in a battle setting and honing them to their highest level of possible readiness. Besides his lack of hands on experience his most prominent weakness was at least easy to identify.

His sensor wings.

While the sensory panels would give him an edge in keeping track of his surroundings, they were also an obvious and easy target to exploit. A single good hit to one of the panels would take him out of the battle quickly. A great deal of his attention suddenly shifted to the immediate problem, just enough of his processor still dedicated to his surroundings to avoid running into any of his current company.

"Suggestions: desirable?" Soundwave asked, though by rank he had every right to simply order the changes.

"Welcomed." Prowl agreed, suspecting the large mech would have better idea of how he might best survive the upcoming change in his functioning.

"Sensor wings: have third panel removed. Loss: 5% data. Gain: 30% smaller target," Soundwave began. "Install: sensor block and energon flow regulator in case of damage. Combat training: Soundwave, Skywarp, Counterpunch."

Silent contemplation and evaluation of the suggestions. Having the senor panel removed was a sound suggestion, and he started running the numbers of how much of an advantage it would be to return to having a single one in combat circumstances. He had begun his functioning with only a single set, and returning to that state would not be much of a hardship.

The installations would be needed with however many panels he ended up keeping, or he would be a liability on the battlefield. Combat training was a must as well. He was thankful for the offer from Soundwave, and Counterpunch was also a sound suggestion. However..."Skywarp?"

"Skywarp: poor fighter for a Seeker. Large wings. Rarely hit. Skywarp: skilled at dodging with large, vulnerable wings," Soundwave explained as he opened the door to his quarters.

For a brief moment Prowl's thoughts moved off the discussion and focused on a space very different from his own quarters. As he expected, Soundwave's quarters were far larger than his own, though it was less a function of greater rank and more a function of being one of the tallest mechs with ten symbiots. Each one had its own space it seemed as well. He could pick how who had which cubby with relative ease.

"Skywarp." Prowl said, making it sound like the agreement it was as he looked around openly. The arrangement was completely logical. Still, not wanting to dig too deeply he looked to the part of the room that was obviously Soundwave's portion. The berth, larger than even Soundwave would have needed, dominated one corner. A large, well-used and flawlessly organized desk that melded into a data/entertainment center worthy of the most powerful communications and Intel officer on Cybertron dominated much of the rest.

Yet there were also personal touches. Not many, but more than Prowl's quarters sported. A mural of a stylized Cybertron at sunrise spread across the entire wall containing the door. A holoframe rotated image-captures of before the war, and possibly during it. Images mostly of symbiots, both those who now called Soundwave master, and ones Prowl did not know. A small, delicate crystal statue of Primus, his spark glowing brightly from within, sat protected on a shelf above the side of the berth.

Prowl paused, appreciating the mural for the piece of art it was and glancing at the rotating images. It was oddly the statue of Primus that caught his attention. He had stopped believing in the supposed source of their race vorns ago, and he surprised to see the image in Soundwave's quarters. Finally he tore his gaze from the statue and looked to his host for instructions.

"Prowl: be comfortable." Soundwave said with an offering movement of his arm towards the portion of the room that seemed a little out of place, an addition that hadn't yet settled in. Two chairs, one sized for Soundwave, the other for a small winged frame; for a Praxian. Both padded and designed for extended comfort. Each with a side table and within a few steps of a small case of bookfile datapads.

Surprised, Prowl nodded his thanks and obediently settled himself in the chair obviously placed there with him in mind. He waited for Soundwave to settle as well and found Ravage settling by his side rather than Soundwave's.

"Prowl: has questions. Soundwave: will answer," the large mech spoke evenly, a slight inflection in his tonal quality hinting at his pleasure to do so for Prowl.

"Thank you." Prowl murmured, gathering his thoughts before focusing on a point that he had stored away to address later anyway. Now seemed as good of a time as any, with a willing source of information sitting with him. "You had said there were others that were interested in me as well. Will you tell me who they are, so that I may plan?"

Soundwave nodded. "Hook: perceives Prowl's perfection of plans as a complement to his perfection in work. Onslaught: views Prowl as possible equal and definite threat. Desires stem from goal to control perceived threat. Reflector: enamored by Prowl's appearance. Viewfinder: most fixated. Runamuck and Runabout: view Prowl as a conquest. Scrapper: enamored by Prowl's intellect, skill and modesty. Shockwave; desires and appreciation similar to Soundwave. Smokescreen; views Prowl as a conquest. Desires stem from mutual Praxian origin and Prowl's apparent disinterest in others. Tracer: views Prowl as a conquest."

Prowl's stiffened in his seat, sensor panels flaring a bit at the sheer length of the list. He had no idea that he was viewed as desirable for whatever reason by so many of his fellow Decepticons. Accepting Soundwave's attentions would deal with some of them, an excuse if they dared approach and consequences most were unwilling to face if they actually crossed the line.

For the others ... his processor went to work, tactical computer speeding through scenarios, creating and storing solutions from highest chance of success to lowest. Other potential factors were considered, and combat training was instantly elevated to a top priority. Several of the mechs would be deterred if Prowl could back up any threats he was forced to make. Strength was a key factor in the ranking of Decepticons, and now Prowl would see to it that his physical abilities were as equal with his mental functions as possible.

He slipped deeper into planning mode, distracted.

Soundwave allowed him, watching with interest and listening with unbridled fascination at the functioning of a processor unique among the Decepticons. There were many brilliant Decepticons, several skilled tacticians, but none whose processors functioned as Prowl's did. Even though the telepath could follow, at best, 30% of what Prowl was thinking in this mode, he desired to experience it, reveled in the beautiful efficiency of the processor, battle computer and logic circuits so perfectly integrated that they were effectively a single system.

Plans were made, evaluated, altered, disregarded or stored in rapid succession, each name on the list worked through systematically. Some were processed in the spaces of a klik or two, the longest taking a breem or a little more. Finally the last one was laid to rest, the Praxian reading as satisfied with his work as he cycled back to awareness and focused on Soundwave once more.

Embarrassment at ignoring his host was instant, apology quickly on its heels as sensor panels folded in a visible display of request-forgive/apology.

"Granted," Soundwave said easily, his empty rib-struts sliding open slightly. "It is fascinating to watch your work."

"My intended function, now altered." Prowl said, acknowledging the compliment while refusing to take credit for it at the same time. He earned himself some time by sipping slowly at the energon, savoring it as something of its quality warranted. At the same time he searched for something to talk about. Questions he had in plenty, but which to ask?

What did Soundwave actually want from him? Laserbeak and Ravage appeared to approve of Prowl, but having met those two and felt their distinctive personalities the Praxian was sure each of the other symbiots was just as unique. What if even one of them did not approve of their host's interest in Prowl? What if-? The tactical part of Prowl's processor sped into action, still near the surface after being called upon to compile so many plans. When presented with a new problem it reacted, automatically drawing energy and processing power default set for its use.

"Prowl: attention requested," Soundwave interrupted the battle computer, drawing Prowl's attention away from planning and to his host.

Sensor wings fluttered lightly in distress at requiring the reprimand, no matter how mildly stated, and Prowl focused his protocols on keeping his attention on Soundwave.

"Soundwave: desires to court Prowl. Desires a lover-equal," the large mech focused on him intently, yet the telltale tingle of a deep processor scan was absent. "Soundwave: offers resources, status, protection, _self_. Soundwave: desires fidelity to self and protection of symbiots.

"Symbiots: already approve of Prowl. Soundwave: would not act if they did not. Symbiots: highly valued by hosts. Symbiots: grant status, power, resources, _strength_ to their host."

"Short form: he protects us, we protect him, everyone wins. You protect us, we'll protect you. You make him happy, we'll love you," Ravage spoke for the first time Prowl could think of. "Yes, I have a normal vocalizer and the processor to use it. Don't go spreading it around. I prefer them thinking I'm a hunter drone."

"Makes our job much easier," Laserbeak chirred with an affectionate rub of his head along Prowl's cheek. "He means to court you to. It's a big deal for a host to take a mate. Really, really big deal."

"We're our own society," Rumble spoke up from a cubbyhole, uncurling to make himself visible. "You already know more about us than even Megatron," he added with something of a warning. "Don't make us regret trusting you."

Prowl had to resist the urge to fall back on his computer just to process everything that had been thrown at him in the span of a few kliks, answers to questions he had wanted or not. Answers he had gotten, but the implications that went with them opened entirely new levels of understanding and possibility, levels that would take at least several joor for him to sort through to his complete satisfaction.

Initial comfort, at least, with the idea that Soundwave wanted him as an equal, and not entirely for his own devices as so many others intended. Comfort too, since he had no intention of being anything but at least respectful and courteous to the large mech, that the symbiots would at least tolerate him until he got everything sorted out.

The warning...he accepted the affection from Laserbeak openly and inclined his head to Rumble, acknowledgment and a promise of that for as much as it was in his power. "I will do my best."

It seemed to be enough for them all.

"Prowl: desires time to processes new information. Prowl: is welcome here or to analyze data elsewhere," Soundwave spoke quietly.

Quietness as Prowl finished off the energon, setting he empty cube aside carefully, taking the time weigh even this. He needed time without distraction to process all of this, and while he had certainly come to appreciate the company he had suddenly found himself in, they were still distractions. Even more so because they factored so heavily into what he needed to process. Just their mere presence on the outskirts of his conscious, because they were still constantly shifting variables, constantly altered his conclusions without letting him settle on one.

Decision made, Prowl allowed his gaze to sweep once around the room, including everyone before focusing on Soundwave. "I thank you for a most pleasant evening. However, I believe, for tonight at least, it would be best if I were to return to my own quarters now."

Laserbeak chirred and rubbed his cheek lightly before launching from his shoulder to his roost near the ceiling.

"Choice: expected," Soundwave said smoothly and stood, offering a large hand to Prowl. "Prowl: meet Soundwave for regular energon after next shift?" he sounded quite hopeful.

A moment of hesitation, not at the meeting but at the actual physical touch. The Prowl got himself under control and accepted the offer, allowing Soundwave to help him to his pedes. "I look forward to sharing energon again."

"Prowl's company: always welcome," Soundwave said before letting go of Prowl's hand and guiding him to the door. His EM field reached out for Prowl's once more, though it did not ask to mingle. This was simply a message: pleasure/gratitude/content.

Acceptance and thanks were offered in return as Prowl was shown out the door, the Praxian making his way to his quarters with a great deal to consider.


	3. A Second Date

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 03: A Second Date<p>**

* * *

><p>Back to the wall at an out of the way table in the rec room, two glowing cubes of regular energon waiting, others present assessed and dismissed, Prowl allowed himself to relax enough to review his conclusions from the orn before.<p>

All the evidence pointed to the conclusion that Soundwave was courting Prowl with serious intent of at least a long-term relationship. Having no prior experience with this sort of thing, Prowl could only read the signs based on second hand knowledge and what Soundwave told him.

The Praxian was still hesitant, wary. So far he had seen no sign that he should not take the communications expert at his word. Most of his dealing with Prowl had been open, straightforward ...and so very different then what he was accustomed to. Domination, power, control - those were all things that Prowl was intimately familiar with, parameters that he could work within comfortably. Apparent affection, gentleness, desire - alien concepts that still baffled him, things that he held at arms length.

So ... he would give Soundwave the chance the mech wanted. He would wait and see if the pattern continued, or if it fell back into the old pattern that Prowl was familiar with. Time would tell, and he would be vigilant. He glanced at the door along with everyone else, more than half expecting Soundwave. It was as unlike the mech to be late as it was for Prowl.

Instead Ravage padded in and went directly for Prowl's pedes, carefully settling in a spot where neither of them would be in the other's way should an attack happen. The feline symbiot extended her field and brushed against Prowl's affectionately and with a trace of loyalty.

Then she pinged him for an ultra-short range encrypted comm that he accepted after a brief thought.

::Master sends his apologies. He had to fix a mech. He should be here within three breems,:: she explained. ::Sent me to make sure you didn't think you were forgotten. Duty just comes first. If you'd rather wait in your quarters or ours, you are welcome to.::

::Three breems is not long to wait, unless he would prefer a different location.:: Prowl replied softly. ::I can bring the energon with me.:: A sudden curiosity as he looked down at the symbiot.

::If waiting is agreeable, may I ask you a question?::

::Yes,:: the feline responded without so much as twitching.

::If it is not something you wish me to know, or I should know, I will understand if you do no answer. But can you consume regular energon to support yourself, or are you completely dependent on Soundwave to meet all of your needs?::

::We all consume regular energon,:: she answered easily. ::We need him for other reasons.::

::You simply do not do so where other can see to maintain the illusion of what you wish them to see?:: Prowl asked, sorting back through his memories and trying to recall ever seeing the symbiots refuel in public, though there was not an overly large amount of data to pull from.

::Some. Mostly it's to avoid loosing the energon to larger mechs. More than a few enjoy messing with us.::

Irritation rippled from Prowl. With his knowledge of many of the Decepticons it did not surprise him that some were inclined to do so, but he did find rather odd that mechs would choose to risk irritating the communications officer by picking on his symbiots.

::The smart ones don't,:: she chuckled, seeming to follow his thoughts. ::There is an over-abundance of not-smart mechs around.::

::So I have noticed.:: It was occasionally painful, the level of stupidity that he was forced to deal with. There were time he wished that some of them were drones, to be fueled, turned on and given orders that would be followed to the letter, then repaired and replaced in storage until needed again. ::It would make planning so much easier...:: He mused to himself.

Ravage laughed uproariously across the comm, though didn't give so much as a twitch physically. ::Wishing we had drones instead of processor-deficient mechs?::

::I am surely not the first one to wish for such.:: Prowl replied, pleased that he had managed to amuse her while they waited.

::Skywarp,:: she chose firmly. ::Mean idea of what's funny, not bright enough to avoid Soundwave and protected by Starscream. There is nothing good about that mech.::

Prowl contemplated this and had to agreed with her assessment of the Seeker. ::You know that I am to train with him.::

::Good practice,:: she said. ::Hard to get more random than a teleporter who doesn't think tactically, or rationally. Mech's good at his function. He's just not good when he doesn't have a valid target. You'll want to make nice with Hook, though. You'll see him a lot.::

Sensor panels twitched at the suggestion, the Praxian acknowledging that the symbiot was probably right. However necessary, Prowl was not looking forward to the experience. ::Suggestions?::

::Don't show up with the same damage twice,:: she began with her most firm tone. ::He's highly intolerant of that particular stupidity. Don't try to get up until he tells you to. He's a perfectionist. Let him. Intelligent conversation is good. So's a high grade apology, just make sure it's _quality_ stuff. He does have Mixmaster on call. If you _weren't_ with Soundwave, inviting him to your berth would work very well since he's quite partial to you. He's not beginner's material though.::

Taking the symbiots words seriously, Prowl started working through them. The first one would hopefully be easy enough - the Praxian was a quick learner, not prone to making the same mistake twice.

The second one ... he could be patient, if it resulted in the quality repairs Ravage believed he was going to require.

He would find out what sort of topic interested the mech before he required attention in case further research was required on his part to be properly repaired.

High grade could be acquired, should the need arise.

As for the symbiots final conclusion ... if it were ever to come up he would make sure he was prepared, having been properly warned.

He reached down, stopping just short of touching the symbiot. ::Thank you.::

::You're welcome,:: she purred softly. ::Master's here.:: she added. ::In a less than stellar mood. He needs company more than usual tonight.::

::I shall do my best.:: Prowl promised quietly, attention shifting to the approaching mech, searching for visible clues to the current mood of the communications officer. He was rather sure that Ravage's assessment of her host's mood was gathered from the connection between the two of them, but Prowl was also sure that if he paid attention he would be able to find signs that would serve a similar purpose.

Quickly he double-checked his preparations, even though he knew there was nothing missing. The chair drawn up across from his was suitable for a mech of Soundwave's specs, and the energon was waiting. Had he been aware of the mood his superior would arrive in he might have tried to acquire some high grade instead, but it was too late now.

"Prowl: thought is appreciated," Soundwave said as he sat down, his outwards manner and tone the flawlessly neutral one he always had in public. "Prowl's company more helpful than high grade," he admitted before sipping the regular ration. A small x-vent escaped audibly. "Prowl: events of day?"

"Satisfactory." Prowl answered honestly without bothering to go into detail. There had been nothing exciting and little comment worthy that had crossed his desk that shift, mostly the same things he had dealt with the shift before only in a different format or worded different. "More tolerable because of my projected evening." He added, debating as to whether he should inquire about Soundwave's or leave the subject alone for later.

He felt Soundwave's field reach out to him with a brush of thanks/affection/appreciation before shifting to caress Prowl's field lightly in an offer to mesh and share more of Soundwave's reactions.

A moment of hesitation before Prowl cautiously initiated a surface blending, one that would allow for consciously shared thoughts, emotions and feelings on his part, and strong unconscious ones, to transfer easily. It was potentially only an illusion of privacy, but it was enough to keep him happy at the moment. The mere fact that Soundwave, a powerful telepath, was _asking_ for the connection and offering it in return was telling. Everything Prowl was giving up to the blending fields were things Soundwave had to try to not pick up from others. Yet Soundwave was offering a great deal to Prowl in exchange.

~Disloyal mech: Unpleasant to deal with,~ Soundwave offered quietly, the thoughts and distress they caused, a direct reflection of the later part of his shift, coming through more clearly than any normal field meshing would carry. ~Prowl: refreshingly loyal, not ambitious, compared to most officers ... most _Cybertronians_. Prowl: very pleasant to be near.~

Prowl acknowledged the compliments, their intention, just as he always did, and then dismissed them as usual. His was loyal because he believed in what they were trying to accomplish, more so now than even when had first joined. Now there was a level of personal interest involved - though the idea that what he was doing was for himself as well as others was still at odds with his conditioning. His ambition was to serve and he was being given an expansive means of expression. And the last compliment pleased him more than he cared to admit, which earmarked it for analyzing at some later time.

Questions, his desire for knowledge leading part of him to want details he was sure he probably didn't want to know, was squashed as well. ~Thank you. Perhaps after this such incidents will be fewer in the future.~

A flicker of hope was followed by the grim knowledge it was a futile hope, drifted from Soundwave.

~That one mech will keep his traitorous thoughts controlled for some time,~ Soundwave said. ~It is the most that can be done for now. Soundwave: unwilling to completely reprogram others without direct order. Process: very unpleasant for Soundwave. Prowl: desires tonight?~

A tiny shudder ran through Prowl, memories surfacing all the easier for having been pulled up not so long ago. Memories that he quickly pushed back down, not quite willing to share again just yet. They also served little purpose in the current setting. Instead Prowl focused on how much he did not know about the mech seated across from him, and Prowl's distinct lack of social skills.

He was perfectly capable of having a conversation, though few of them did not usually end up in the technical. But beyond that he had little to offer in the way of being pleasant company, making him a poor choice for companionship when one wanted to forget the normal going-ons of the orn.

Instead of words, Soundwave reached out to place his much larger hand over Prowl's and pushed a sense of calm safety across their fields until Prowl was completely settled.

~Soundwave: did not intend to suggest interfacing,~ the big mech looked at him seriously, fully focused on the Praxian. ~Possibilities: share some history, explore hobbies, play with symbiots, begin a puzzle. Do any possibilities appeal to Prowl?~

A moment of tension, quickly lost, at the physical contact before Prowl responded. ~I have never considered puzzles a social activity. It would be interesting to experience them as such. And-~ He reached down toward Ravage, curious as to what the symbiot would think of the suggestion that she and brethren cared to be...entertained?

She came back with image-thoughts instead of words. Having small objects thrown for her and the avians to chase, catch and return. Wrestling/play-fighting. Hunting games. Being told stories by their host. A board game with several types of pieces that Prowl didn't recognize in the least.

~Game: Clue,~ Soundwave supplied the name of it. ~Purpose: be the first player to determine who committed the crime described at the beginning of play.~

Prowl found himself amused at the idea on many levels, and entertained at all of the possibilities. ~I believe I might enjoy learning the rules of this game.~

He felt a spike of excitement from Ravage. Amusement, pleasure and mild eagerness from Soundwave.

~We haven't played in decaorns,~ Ravage purred. ~It's fun. You'll pick it up fast. Tactics, intel hunting, detective work are pretty similar.~

~Teaching Prowl: agreeable to Soundwave,~ he said with a smile in the thought and drank his energon a little more quickly. ~Soundwave's quarters: after energon?~

It sounded like a potentially pleasant and relaxing evening. An evening spent in the company of individuals who, while Prowl still watched his step, he was not worried about stabbing him in the back during a moment of inattention for their own gain. Things and feelings Prowl was starting to crave even though he had just recently been exposed to them. ~Yes.~

* * *

><p>Three rounds of the board game and some very content symbiots later and Prowl leaned back, stretching his sensor wings and letting them fall into a fully relaxed posture. It had been a very pleasant evening indeed, once they had retired to the communication officer's quarters.<p>

The enthusiasm that the symbiots had show at the suggestion they teach Prowl what was obviously a favorite game had caught the Praxian off guard initially, then infected him with enthusiasm as well. Checking his chronometer he was surprised at the lateness of the orn.

"I should retire to my quarters," he told his hosts, a small smile still on his face.

"Prowl: welcome to stay," Soundwave said, his field conveying both uncertainty and desire.

The smile vanished.

"My thanks, but I would not wish to impose." Prowl replied, stiffly and quickly, the sudden formal tone of his posture and speech a defense springing from fear he could not put a name on in the moment.

"Prowl: would not impose," Soundwave said quickly, then suddenly went tense as his processor caught up to his passive telepathy. "Soundwave: did not intend to make Prowl uncomfortable. Soundwave: apologizes."

"Accepted, though there is no need." Prowl flinched, sounding stiff and far to ... in charge, to his own audios. He rose quickly, trying to gauge the mood of the room and find some way out that would leave a minimal amount of damage in his wake. "My evening has been most relaxing and educational. Still, I think it best were I to return to my own quarters for my recharge cycle."

"As Prowl wishes," Soundwave didn't hide his disappointment as he stood to show him out. "Prowl: Join Soundwave for energon after shift next orn?"

Prowl fell into the routine, taking comfort into what was on its way to a familiar dance. He relaxed, offering a sincere sense of apology, illogical as it was for him to be sorry for his fear. "Of course. I look forward to it."

"Soundwave: pleased," the giant mech walked Prowl to the door and opened it, watching him walk down the corridor to his own quarters for recharge. It was not until he shut the door that his symbiots crowed around him to offer comfort.


	4. Beatdown

Public breakdwo**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 04: Beatdown<p>**

* * *

><p>Pain hit first, intense pain where his sensor wings should be, enough to wrench a keen of agony from his vocalizer before he'd even finished booting up.<p>

"Hush you," a deep, angry voice snapped at him along with a light impact to his helm. "Or I'll _give_ you something to keen about."

It was difficult to fight down the automatic reaction, made only slightly easier by the fact that the instructions had been given in the form of an order. He clamped down on the noise, expression of pain turning to a full body quiver until his processor caught up enough to recognize the intense agony as ghost pain.

His sensor wings were there, intact, and though there was still the discomfort of new components and repairs his reaction quickly matched up to the actual level of sensory input instead of the stored one. The shaking and the need to cry out ceased as his optics came online, scanning the room as a finally fully booted Prowl scanned his own memories.

What had happened and where was he and why did his wings _ache_ so?

The repair bay.

Combat training with Skywarp.

The malicious grin on the seeker's face as, in less than a breem's worth of sparring, he warped out of existence where Prowl could track him and then ... all Prowl could register after that was the memory of intense pain. Pain bad enough, that despite his modification, it knocked him into stasis until he woke up here.

Optics settled on the bay's other occupant as a series of automatic internal diagnostics ran on the condition of his wings and the rest of his frame. "What happened?"

"Apparently Skywarp has yet to grasp the difference between combat and combat _training_," Hook grumbled. "The glitch took you down as fast as he could instead of _teaching_ you something useful. He'll remember his _job_ next time."

The threat was not lost on Prowl, and he briefly wondered at the current condition of his sparring partner before other more pressing matter rose. "There is a review system so that I can see what he did and avoid a similar experience in the future?"

"Of course," Hook look mildly offended and pleased at the same time. "The only real way to avoid Skywarp in close combat involves upgrades to your sensor processing protocols, combat protocols and hardware upgrades to improve reaction time. I wouldn't even bother with most, but you actually have the sensor suite and processor power to manage it."

Prowl considered this. "There are technical specs available for the proposed upgrades?" He had several variables he would like to run the changes against himself before allowing the upgrades to be made. Though even difficult upgrades would be worth it if they meant he would not be coming online in _this_ condition on a regular basis.

Hook reached over to a side table and snatched a datapad. "Have fun," he handed it over. "And get out of my workshop."

"Thank you." The response was automatic as Prowl took the datapad, and made his way out. Once he was on the move he split his processor into different tasks, seeing what his orders were now that he had been released, making sure he did not run into anyone or anything, and looking over the proposed upgrades.

Some of them were fairly simple, improvements to already existing systems that would be easy to integrate. A couple of them would take more work on his part to employ to maximum effectiveness but might still prove worth the effort. He would have to consider them again once he reviewed the training recording.

His right sensor wing quivered in memory at the idea of watching what happened to it.

A light sensor sweep passed over him from behind, than Ravage pinged him for a private comm line.

::Hook did his typical good work, I see,:: she purred at him, coming up and walking at his left side between him and the rest of the corridor.

::Indeed. I am fully repaired and already investigating ways to avoid requiring similar repairs in the future. It was a most painful experience.:: Prowl responded, diverting most of his attention from the upgrades to her. ::You are well?::

::I'm good,:: she assured him. ::Just wanted to check on you after that number Skywarp did to your wings. You're almost family now.::

Sensor wings twitched slightly, unsure and pleased by the idea at the same time.

::Don't you want to be family?:: she glanced up at him, ruby optics shining brightly even as her EM field expressed her own discomfort.

Prowl stopped, trying to figure out the source of her discomfort while answering honestly. ::I believe so. It is just still a very new idea to me. I...:: He hesitated, searching for a way to express what he needed to say in something besides his normally blunt and factual manner. ::I am still attempting to learn to function appropriately in context.::

::Oh,:: she brightened and relaxed. ::You'll learn. It'll be fine. Soundwave's dealt with the lot of us after all.::

Satisfied that the situation had been taken care of, or at least diverted for now, Prowl continued on his way. ::You do not get along?::

::Oh we do, for the most part,:: she chuckled. ::Not at the beginning though. When you toss a very young mech into a quantum bond it's pretty chaotic for a while.::

To someone who depended on logic and order to function Prowl had the suspicion that 'chaotic' might be an understatement, an idea that he couldn't really process.

::You never were a sparkling, were you?:: she sounded like it was a guess.

::No. I was brought online for a purpose, the entirety of my functioning.:: Prowl responded, sounding as though it was perfectly normal. To him it was.

He could feel Ravage wanting to express sympathy, or maybe something stronger, only to restrain herself. ::None of us were. Symbiots can't be. Hosts can't be either. They wouldn't have the skills to cope with us if they went right into an adult frame.::

::Logical.:: Prowl responded. And it was, considering the level of relationships that he had observed needed to exist between host and symbiot. Simply analyzing his own functioning he could easily believe that attempting to force a mature functioning spark into the mix would be a disaster.

::Would you be available for a game of Clue tonight? It's just me and the birds.::

::Unless something demands my attention my schedule is clear. It would be nice to play again.::

::Cool. Looking forward to it then. Just drop by when you're free,:: she said before lengthening her stride to outpace him, heading somewhere else.


	5. Lessons of Pleasure

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R for mech /mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Tactile  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 05: Lessons of Pleasure<p>**

* * *

><p>The last datapad was set aside complete, locked, and stored with the rest. Prowl stood, stretching his sensor panels and allowing them to settle with a quiver of anticipation. Programmed thoroughness had optics scanning his quarters one last time, even if there was nothing extra to be out of place.<p>

It served as a distraction as he waited for his scheduled company to arrive, if no other productive purpose.

Right on schedule his door chime rang with a ping from Jazz.

"Enter." Prowl called, the door allowing his visitor in and sliding close to lock behind the small silver mech. "And welcome." He added, sounding like he meant it.

Jazz smiled warmly at him and sauntered closer, every move intending to show off his frame and make him look sensually desirable.

"Thank you," he purred, taking in the very different mech standing before him before stepping within touching distance and ghosting his hands up Prowl's polished chest plates. "I admit I was not expecting our appointment to still be listed."

"I am unaware of a reason that it would have been canceled." Prowl responded, optics following every tiny motion of the small silver mech and welcoming the touch he had been so wary of at their last meeting. "Especially since I have been looking forward to it for some time."

Jazz's field shivered in his eagerness and arousal. "Word is you're seeing Soundwave," he murmured, spreading his fingers to caress the polished metal. "I know your desires haven't exceeded his skill or willingness." He pressed close, rubbing his chassis against the larger one of his client.

"He apparently approves of my spending time with you, for which I am thankful." Prowl did not go any more in depth on his relationship with Soundwave at the moment, raising a hand to catch Jazz's chin and tilt the smaller mechs face up for a kiss.

It was a light thing, not entirely sure of itself but asking and wanting as their lips touched.

Jazz's field flared hard, pleasure and desire thrust directly into Prowl's core as the silver minibot all but melted into the light contact.

"I'm thankful too," Jazz whimpered when the kiss ended. "How may I please you?"

"I think you might still have a better idea than I do." Prowl managed, trembling in place and sensor panels flared wide, reaction to the desire directed once more at him.

Jazz murmured and nodded before kissing the seam of Prowl chest plates. "Your berth then?" he suggested, his voice thick with desire.

Mute, Prowl pulled him in the direction of the berth, pausing at the edge. Gentle hands suggested he lay down, on his back.

Memory of what those skilled hands could do when given full access to the sensor panels was the only reason Prowl hesitated before arranging himself obediently on the berth. He wanted Jazz to show him what it could feel like, to teach him how to feel.

It would defeat the purpose if he started to question the small mech this early in the game.

"You still desire to learn, not simply overload?" Jazz asked, his voice trembling with the mounting desire that was already heating his frame.

"Yes. And I wish to overcome my objection to that part of the learning process." Prowl knew he liked the feeling afterward, the relaxation and contentment that overload brought to his systems. He suspected that if he could learn to let go of his need to be in control that the experience would be even better.

"Experience will do that," Jazz hummed and slid his hands, fingers spread wide, across Prowl's chest from the edge of his waist to dip his fingers into the bright red vents taking up the upper third of his outer chest.

"So beautiful," Jazz nearly moaned, watching the Praxian under him with tightly controlled lust. "Lover, while I'm here ... or teacher?"

"You will not, can not, be both?" Question for question as Prowl ran searching fingers along Jazz's helm, stroking long, elegant sensor horns.

"I can, would love to," he shivered and leaned down for a kiss as his fingers began sliding between the slates on Prowl's chest vents, seeing out hot spots. "Want ta be your lover, Prowl."

Prowl moaned into the kiss, glossa seeking as the Praxian drew on what he remembered, everything that had felt good from last time. "Please."

Was it so wrong that he wanted to be wanted like this? Without obligation and fear of the future? To simply be in the moment, to exist?

Then questing fingers moved to his chevron, caressing, squeezing, striving to cause pleasure.

A soft moan of appreciation, savoring the touch before the Praxian tipped his head the side, exposing his neck. "Please?"

With a shiver of eagerness Jazz complied, his fingers stroking Prowl's throat while he lowered his head to kiss, then lick, his glossa teasing the strong cables.

Drawing much stronger indicators of pleasure, actual whimpers, from Prowl as hands started to wander over the small silver mech, starting at the shoulders and working downward, searching for seams and wires and anything that caused a reaction.

When Prowl's fingers found a hip seam Jazz quivered, nearly crying out around the cable in his mouth as his entire chassis move to press into the touch.

"Oh yeah, babe," the silver mech moaned. "That feels _good_."

Surprise and the briefest hint of amusement from Prowl at the endearment, but neither reaction was enough to stop him from digging deeper at the seam, free hand feeling along the other hip for a similar spot. When his fingers found it, Jazz's quivering went to a whole new level as the silver mech moaned, then keened against Prowl's neck. Silver fingers curled around throat cables, stroking their underside.

Driven by Jazz's rapidly building charge small zaps of electricity jumped from one chassis to the other.

Prowl twitched with every exchange, not in pain but reaction, struggling between wanting to kiss the mech keening against his neck and wanting that wonderful attention to continue. He was relieved of the choice when Jazz lifted his head to claimed Prowl's mouth in a heated, demanding kiss.

Silver hips rocked and thrust, pressing into the seeking fingers as they moved up and scraping their codpieces in long and firm thrusts. All the while Jazz's glossa stroked Prowl's and explored his mouth. He tilted his fingers and brought his thumb into play to give a stronger, more edged stroke to the neck cables that felt so good to the Praxian.

It was Prowl that cried out at the pressure on his neck, an unconscious warning of just how close the Praxian was, his actual desire for imminent explosion of energy blatantly clear.

Jazz moaned at the sound and broke the kiss, his mouth traveling down Prowl's jaw before reaching his throat. He gave a large energon cable a strong nip, than laved the sting away with his glossa.

A strangled cry, than "Please." Pleading, neck completely exposed. Prowl learned quickly, and so close- he deliberately dug his fingers into the smaller mechs hips.

Jazz's frame shivered, responding to the arousal of his lover. He thrust his field into Prowl deeply, rubbing their chassis together harder before giving Prowl's throat a harder nip, nearly a real bite, as he pinched other cables between his claws.

"Overload for me, babe," Jazz whispered before biting again. "Want ta overload with ya."

There was nothing coherent in the static laced cry of raw pleasure that escaped Prowl. Energy, willing release had finally reached the tipping point. Prowl pulled Jazz hard against him as the overload consumed him.

Jazz managed one last nip to Prowl's throat before the wild rush of energy released against him sent his own pleasure spiraling out of control. His cries and shudders as he channeled as much as he could manage back into his lover's frame were as genuine as the overload was intense. There was no thought as to how it could have been better; it had been exquisitely perfect as far as Jazz was concerned.

Prowl came to himself faster this time, though there was no actual rush about him as relaxed under Jazz, savoring the small ripples of energy still teasing across their frames in the aftermath as his systems purred.

He was learning to like this very much. And still he had to ask. "Good?"

"Very, very good," Jazz purred, his systems still running hot as he snuggled against the gradually cooling frame under his. "You're a quick learner."

Prowl hummed softly. He was quick learner. He was supposed to be. He was designed to be. Curious, and willing to take liberties with this mech he would never have with anyone else, Prowl rubbed his hands over Jazz in long rhythmic motions of even pressure along the silver mech's back plating.

A deep, resonant purr as Jazz's engine revved from the contact was the first response, then a soft moan of pleasure as Jazz stretched out and undulated shamelessly into the contact.

"Mmm," Jazz hummed as he nuzzled Prowl's throat, content to enjoy the touch and let Prowl explore and indulge his curiosity. It was a good thing, in Jazz's world, to have a mech he was to teach also be curious. It didn't happen nearly as often as he wished. "Wings," he reached up to stroke them lightly. "Throat," he nuzzled the cables there once more. "You're wonderfully intense."

Prowl shivered at the touch to his wings, and than to the touch on his neck even more. Intense..."I have always tried to avoid anything like that. It only ever complicated things."

"Not all complications are a bad thing," Jazz murmured, sliding his glossa the full length of a control cable. "Some of them make functioning worth the effort."

"Hmmm, when they involve you." Prowl responded, pausing as he processed his own words and his current state and the brilliant smile Jazz gave him. Relaxed was a state he was becoming very familiar with, but this inclination to tease and play with the silver mech was strange.

Jazz nuzzled Prowl's neck again, kissing along the stretch of cables. Only now, with the overload high wearing off, did his processor wander onto what he desired, and once again his programming promptly quashed errant line of thought. It didn't stop it fast enough to prevent Jazz from revving his engine at the fantasy.

The sharp noise caught Prowl's attention, and he lifted his head to look at the smaller mech, hands still stroking along Jazz's back. "What was that?"

"Just my engine," he smiled up and caught Prowl's mouth in a kiss. "Had a thought that got me revved up again."

Prowl growled softly into the kiss, holding Jazz tight against him when it broke. "Are you going to share this thought with me?"

With a full-frame shiver and a much harder rev of his engine, Jazz licked Prowl's lips playfully. "I've got a serious subby kink," he murmured into another kiss. "Not programmed; it's _me_." He hesitated fractionally. This wasn't a normal way for a date to go, not even a training one. But his client had asked, so he could speak his _private_ desires. "I pictured you on top of me, pinning me down as you touch me. You spread my legs, demanding my valve cover open and drive your thick, hard spike into me, right up to the housing," his voice broke for a moment, the arousal caused by _speaking_ his desires, the fantasy he'd played while self-servicing or while under other mechs, was nearly enough to drive him to overload. "I know you don't have the parts to. Just a fantasy."

Prowl hummed thoughtfully, not really revealing his opinion on the idea one way or the other. Whatever conclusion he reached he kept to himself as well, tilting Jazz's face so that he could claim another kiss that Jazz melted into. The silver frame shivered with arousal, both hands seeking Prowl's throat and neck to stroke the cables.

"Again?" Prowl asked softly, lips brushing Jazz's, amused. He ran his hand down's the silver mech's back, reveling in the way Jazz arched into the touch.

"As often as you're willing," Jazz trembled with need and sought another kiss, his fingers seeking a hot spot that would make his client-lover moan.

"I very much doubt 'willing' is going to be the limiting factor." Prowl answered, moaning as one of Jazz's hands slipped to run along his chest and shoulder. "Able, though..."

"Endurance is improved by experience," Jazz purred and repeated the touch, then shifted to kiss his way down Prowl's center seam.

"And experience only comes by doing." Prowl added. As Jazz moved down he could no longer reach his back, and Prowl's attention turned to the helm of the smaller mech. Slowly he ran his fingers along the sensor horns, light at first, taking in the moans and flares of Jazz's field in response.

"Almost as sensitive as your wings," Jazz panted after a moment.

"Ah, so this-" He reached with his other hand, running his thumbs on both sides of the mechs helm, "And his-" He kissed one before dragging his glossa up it. "Must feel good."

"Very," Jazz's entire frame jerked as a low, needy keen was wrenched from his vocalizer. "Won't last if you keep that up."

"Then don't." Prowl lifted the smaller mech, bringing Jazz closer and making his own fun easier as he continued to lick and stroke at the sensors. "Let go. Let me watch?"

"Always," Jazz moaned, his chassis shivering and claws gripping into Prowl's armor as he let go of his self-control. A few strokes later and he keened as his joints stiffened, locked by the cascading of free electricity rushing through his lines.

Strong arms held him close, Prowl shivering from the surface energy transfer and enjoying every second of feeling Jazz overload in arms. He would remember all of it, and marveled at how he found himself content to be the cause of such pleasure. His engine purred his contentment as Jazz's vocalizer spit static and he gradually relaxed from the overload.

Gradually Jazz settled into an exhausted, content purr, his engine rumbling softly as the pleasure slowly faded.

Prowl arranged them so they could recover comfortably, hands running along the back of the mech sprawled across his chassis. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or disappointed at the speed of Jazz's recovery.

"Wonderfully fast learner," Jazz finally purred when his core temperature came down from redlining. "You're already a good lover."

"High praise surely, coming from you." While he did doubt the truth of those words, he accepted them in context. That fact that he had managed to please Jazz was laid out before him. His ability to please anyone else in such a manner was still open to question.

"This early in the second session, most would still be so enamored with their own overload that they haven't noticed me yet," he chuckled softly, content to remain still and relaxed on Prowl's chest for the moment ... for as long as they were both inclined to have him there. "Being a good lover isn't as much about skill as enjoying causing pleasure."

"Shame." Prowl commented, optics sweeping over the silver form and wondering how anyone could forget the enticing mech. "I do like you like that."

"Rather pleasant to be me at the moment too," Jazz smiled up at him, his fingers lazily tracing random designs over the tactile sensors in Prowl's chest armor. "Am I your first?"

Prowl nodded. "My original functioning provided little opportunity for seeking pleasure like this, and until now I had no desire to seek it." Never mind that Jazz would have been out of his league on so many levels before Prowl had joined the Decepticons.

A soft hum escaped Jazz as he considered the wording ands decided to let it go. "I'm glad I was able to provide a pleasant introduction then. I am amazed no one's tried before. Your designer crafted a masterpiece."

Prowl twitched quietly. "I believe originally I was intended as a showpiece as well. When I did not fill the initial parameters as expected, plans were...altered."

"I'm sorry," Jazz murmured, reaching upward to lightly stroke Prowl's throat. "I meant a complement, not to bring up bad memories."

For a moment Prowl purred, optics flickering at the touch, before he caught Jazz's hand and kissed the fingers lightly. "I am willing to forget again."

A low, sultry purr came from Jazz before he snuck in a real kiss. "How about with my mouth on your throat and hands on your wings?"

"That..." Prowl started, trying to imagine and finally giving up. "Show me. Please."

Jazz grinned and wiggled a little higher on Prowl's frame before lowering his mouth to slide his glossa along a main energon line he'd nipped before, and then reached up to stroke the sensor wings available above Prowl's shoulders.

Prowl melted underneath him, pushing as much of his sensor panels into Jazz's reach as possible as he left the past behind. "Yes..."


	6. Lessons from Pain

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Violence  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 06: Lessons from Pain<p>**

* * *

><p>A full decaorn of getting pummeled by various mechs on an ornly basis after a full shift in tactical had been an exceptional teacher, as least as far as Prowl was concerned. Pain, humiliation and Hook's ire did their job. Soundwave's steady presence and the vocal encouragement from the symbiots helped sooth the pain, both physical and emotional. Today he was put up against someone who knew his weaknesses intimately, but wasn't nearly the frontliner material of his usual opponents.<p>

"Why _do_ you want to learn to fight?" Smokescreen's tone was taunting as he fluttered his two-panel sensor wings. "You're not keeping your post because you can kill."

"You seem to believe that the matter is optional." Prowl responded, optics locked warily on his opponent as part of his processor started to pick apart the argument. "I wish to serve. And I do keep my position because I can kill, only until now I was not the one physically holding the weapon."

"So you're taking credit for the mechs on the front lines now?" the brightly colored Praxian flicked his sensor wings in a blatant dismissal and very intentional insult before darting in to test Prowl's reflexes. "The Coneheads could come up with battle plans. Go there, shoot everything."

It was more than just front line plans that crossed his desk, but there was no need for Smokescreen to know that. In a move that was close to an unconscious program now Prowl deflected the strike and slipped out of the way, prepared for the next attack, a great deal of his attention still caught up in the debate.

"They could. And for them that is a very logical battle plan. But even they must operate in context with others, and with them 'shoot everything' might well extend to those on our side very quickly."

"Fine, 'shoot everything that isn't a Con'," Smokescreen granted him. His wings twitched, tracking his slightly taller but lighter opponent. "If you want to learn to fight, you'd better try to _fight_ and not just dodge."

Prowl didn't bother dignifying that with a response, slights against him personally meaning little to the tall Praxian. Still, he flared his wings the smallest bit, as though the taunt had bothered him, and instantly planned a defense for every direction he could predict his opponent attacking from.

A snort came from Smokescreen, a couple snickers from the side that were absently identified as Rumble and Frenzy, and suddenly Smokescreen was moving. He darted in, feinted ... a move that Prowl predicted and moved away from, and right into a move he'd never contemplated was possible.

Searing pain ripped through Prowl's processor as multiple hard spikes drove into his sensor wings and back. He only just caught what happened. Smokescreen had twisted, throwing a wing out to slam its top edge against the flat of Prowl's wings and back, then raking.

The pain alone would have knocked him completely out of the fight not so long ago, but experience and pain were harsh and unforgiving teachers. Not only did Prowl stay upright, he collected himself and was already facing his opponent again by the time Smokescreen turned.

A great deal of attention was spared for analyzing that new move, that new weapon. Prowl would certainly not be caught twice.

Most of the rest was centered on finding an exploitable weakness in his opponent and taking full advantage of it in the shortest time possible. Just because he was still standing did not mean that he was going to last long.

"You might just survive," Smokescreen seemed to muse to himself as he danced away, Prowl's energon dripping down his sensor wings where the spikes had retracted into the top strut.

Prowl filed the assessment away as currently irrelevant and evaluated his next move. He had finally concluded that his best available target was their shared weakness, the sensor panels gracing both frames.

Conclusion reached, he worked out a plan of action, circling his target, optics locked on his opponent as he upped the input from his own sensor panels. The damage pain warning was more difficult to ignore at this level, but he required the additional awareness of his surroundings his own modification granted him.

Course set, he went on the attack, striking for Smokescreen's sensor panels with the blade he had kept hidden away until now.

The smaller mech yelped and lunged backward, startled by the assault and the blade he'd missed, then hissed in pain when it caught up with his processor that Prowl had scored a hit. It wasn't deep or crippling, little more than a scratch, but Smokescreen knew well it was the first time Prowl had actually connected with an opponent.

"You _are_ learning," Smokescreen grinned at him and shifted his stance and tactics to account for the blade. "Maybe you really are worth it. Your wings are _lovely_, even dripping energon."

In the background Ravage growled and Soundwave's engine rumbled a bass warning.

Whether or not Smokescreen acknowledged the warning was lost as Prowl struck again. It was a front on assault, aimed for the optics this time, and boarding on desperate. Prowl knew the moment Smokescreen grinned that he'd made a grave tactical error. Yet he had little choice; he had to end the fight or he'd go down.

Without hesitation Smokescreen brought an arm up to block, the force and angle willing to take the blade if that was what it took to save his optics. Tactically sound, as was the move when Smokescreen stepped into the attack and caught Prowl's wrist.

Then everything went weird for Prowl as Smokescreen continued forward until they were pressed close together, chassis to chassis. A hand closed around the base of one of Prowl's sensor wings and a demanding mouth was pressed against his.

Optics flared, startled and on the verge of panic as Prowl finally pieced together what was going on. He attempted to struggle, to free his knife, to break the press of the demanding lips against his own. Between the pain and the energon loss, regulators aside, he was already weak, and the pressure on his sensor joint was immobilizing.

The knife clattered to the floor when Smokescreen got his thumb against the primary control cable for Prowl's hand. Then their mouths parted and with a twisting sweep Prowl found himself on his chest, pinned with Smokescreen's weight on his lower back, knees on his wrists and Prowl's own blade at his throat.

"Yield?" Smokescreen asked smoothly from where he was straddling Prowl's back.

"I yield." Prowl confirmed quietly, frame going limp in submission. He was beaten and he knew it, and facing another visit with Hook. It was time to conserve what energy he had left for that for that.

The blade left his throat, the weight lifted and Smokescreen stood, offering Prowl a hand up.

"Work on your reaction to the unexpected," the bright blue and yellow Praxian said. "You've got the worst possible reflex there. You think too much too."

The hand up was taken gratefully, needed as Prowl locked his joints for moment to regain his balance once he was up. "I will keep that in mind."

::Want me to tear his wings?:: Ravage growled across a private comm. ::No right to kiss you, _touch_ you like that.::

::No, he did not.:: Prowl growled in agreement, but there was no real bite in the response. ::But I was not strong enough to stop him, and to avoid Hook's wrath it might be best if you leave his wings merely scratched, as they are.::

She rumbled, displeased, but wordlessly agreed to leave the Praxian alone.

"Prowl: requires medical attention." Soundwave stated as he stepped up, separating the pair with a glare at Smokescreen that was brushed off with a smirk.

Probably not the wisest response, given the circumstances, but there were other matters at the moment. Prowl leaned on Soundwave, just remembering to hold out his hand for the energy blade Smokescreen had taken from them during their sparring session. It was handed over, the hilt placed in his palm.

Oh, he was not looking forward to his visit with Hook.

* * *

><p>Three joors later and Prowl considered the pain, lectures, threats and downtime a side event. The real item of interest was Soundwave. The hovering, and Hook's irate tolerance of it, was not a surprise anymore. The way Hook actually edged away from Soundwave on several occasions was. By the time he was released from Hook's care Soundwave had quietly worked himself into something of a fury.<p>

Prowl himself was quiet in the face of the fury. Fully repaired, he was still in need of some energon to finish replenishing what he had lost, and recharge. Both were critical so that he could analyze what had gone wrong, and how to avoid it in the future.

He walked silently besides the communications officer, devoting some of his attention there. It took him longer than usual to pick up where they were headed. Soundwave's quarters held energon, a private washrack, polish and many hands willing to help him look like himself again. He found himself relishing the prospect of that help, of company and peace, and finally of recharge.

It wasn't until the door closed behind them, enclosing them in the peaceful space that Soundwave spoke.

"Prowl: desires assistance cleaning and polishing?"

"That would be most welcome." Prowl answered, already looking longingly in the direction of the large private washrack. Hook did all of the repairs, and anything he had to touch was clean, but he left dried energon in places Prowl would rather it wasn't.

A large, gentle hand touched his shoulder, guiding him towards the washrack while Rumble ran ahead to turn it on. "Prowl: always welcome here. Soundwave: desires Prowl to consider this home."

Prowl hummed in response, considering and distracted as his processor started over his latest training run. If Smokescreen was willing to do that in the open, what might others attempt?

"Soundwave: apologizes," he said quietly as they stepped under the warm solvent spray and Soundwave reached for a cleaning cloth and the mild abrasive to deal with the more stubborn spots. "Soundwave: did not believe Smokescreen would attempt to act on desires."

"I did not either," Prowl admitted, no longer blind to when others were flirting with him. He braced himself against the wall, leaning into the pleasant cleaning. "I am sorry I was unable to stop him. I will do better."

"Prowl: improves every orn." Soundwave said, his large hands firm, sure and accustomed to delicate work on much smaller frames. "Soundwave: believes in Prowl."

The belief meant a lot, more than Prowl was willing to display, even here. Still, it took some of the tension from him, relaxing as skilled hands took the dirt and somehow the stress.

He didn't see Soundwave's smile, but he could feel the soft pleasure in Soundwave's field as it gently slid along Prowl's.

"Soundwave: does not want Prowl alone tonight. Soundwave: does not trust others to respect Soundwave's protection of Prowl at a distance."

Old hesitation flared, but it was weak. The truth of the matter was Prowl did not wish to be alone to recharge. Today had been an uncomfortable reminder of just how vulnerable he was, how much he still had to learn about surviving.

No words, but acceptance in the field that welcomed Soundwave's. Relief, gratitude, thanks flowed from Soundwave in response.

Smaller hands, Rumble and Frenzy, went to work on Prowl's lower frame, scrubbing and picking at dirt that hadn't been removed in metacycles, if not vorns. Prowl took good care of himself, but it was only to a functional level. These hands wanted not just to clean him, but to prepare him for the detailing of a functioning.

"Glad you're staying," Rumble spoke up. "Saves us from guarding your door."

Prowl turned just enough to get a look at the symbiot. He was honestly surprised. "You would do that?"

"We already do," Ravage told him from just outside the solvent shower. "One of us is always in sensor range, just in case, but especially around the washracks and your quarters. My claws have warned off more than a few mechs."

"So has my blaster," Frenzy grinned up at him.

"Our tails have guarded you," Buzzsaw chirred from above them, sitting on a bar near the ceiling.

"It never occurred to anyone that someone would take advantage of training to get their hands on you," Rumble added. "I mean, not even old Megs is crazy enough to cross that line."

"I can still shoot his optics out next battle," Laserbeak chirred. "No one would notice it was friendly fire."

"Smokescreen: must be punished," Soundwave said simply. "Soundwave: looses authority if behavior is accepted."

Prowl didn't comment, too sidetracked by the idea that the symbiots had been keeping him under what sounded like complete, round the clock guard. He had noticed them hanging around far more than before but hadn't thought much about it, already have been warned they planned to keep a closer optic on him. But to that degree...

"Prowl: important to Soundwave."

"So I see." Prowl murmured, still coming to terms with the idea that Soundwave was investing resources in him like that. Surely he had nothing to offer the communications mech that was worth that much.

"Prowl: important to Soundwave," the large mech repeated with as much emphasis as his vocalizer was capable of. His field skittered across Prowl's in distress at being unable to communicate well enough.

"Boss?" Rumble gave a questioning looked up.

"Prowl," Ravage's tone demanded his attention. "He _loves_ you. Understand?"

The Praxian stared at Ravage. He understood, at least well enough to almost lock up at the idea. Out of everything that he was trying to learn, wanted to learn, that was the one thing he considered so far out of his reach as to be impossible.

He had heard descriptions of love, but not good enough that he could identify it, apparently. Prowl was sure he neither knew how to give it, or receive it, and that he couldn't learn it. His own distress started to show, the smallest quiver in his sensor panels.

~Prowl: relax. Information: delete if desired.~ Soundwave's mind was suddenly right there, right inside his processor, too distressed by Prowl's reaction to hold back.

The sudden presence was enough to knock Prowl out of loop he had fallen into, bringing him back to present. "Unnecessary." He vented sharply, struggling for control. "I just need time to process..."

His processor caught up with the rest of him, and his attention focused completely on Soundwave. Standing right next to him, but as presence inside of him as well.

The fact that Soundwave had invaded his processor thoroughly enough to speak with him was not as disturbing as the way the communications officer apparently felt towards him.

That idea was going to take him a considerable amount of time to process and decide on an appropriate course of action. Action that could wait, Prowl decided, as he forced himself to prioritize.

He wanted to be clean. He needed to recharge. And he wanted to do so safely, which he hoped was still an option. He reached for a scrub, unsure of his welcome anymore and prepared to finish the job himself. "This will take time. I am sorry. I-"

Lacked the words that he needed to say, instead allowing shame and sorrow to bleed into his field.

Desperation, concern and a deep sense of patience echoed back as Soundwave eased himself from Prowl's processors even as he returned to cleaning Prowl's frame with gentle, determined hands.

"Prowl: has time." Soundwave said firmly. "Soundwave: waited many vorns. Soundwave: will wait until Prowl is ready."

"Thank you." Prowl sighed, relaxing into the skillful cleaning once more as the events of the orn started to catch up with him.


	7. Speaking of Possibilities

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 07: Speaking of Possibilities<p>**

* * *

><p>Prowl's internal alarm went off, but there since there was nothing urgent attached to the orn notice the Praxian allowed himself to cycle up slowly, booting up each system individually and taking the luxury of running a complete personal diagnostic as he did so.<p>

Reading from external plating sensors was the first indication that things were not completely normal. His processor was registering heat and pressure, and soon after the sounds of another's systems operating quietly in close proximity to his own.

With no other indication of the need to be concerned Prowl mentally frowned and accessed his memories from the orn before, seeking a cause. It was vaguely reminiscent of waking up after a recharge cycle spent with Jazz, though the pleasurebot had chosen to function as the Praxian's alarm the two times they had shared a berth. He was also not scheduled to come for a while yet.

Chaos was smoothed into order as his processor came fully online. Repairs from Hook because he had been training with Smokescreen who had possessed the audacity to kiss him in front of -

Soundwave. Optics came online to confirm the rest of what Prowl recalled. A thorough scrubbing, stress, relaxing under a kind of care and attention that had never been directed at himself and he had never expected to be, and little else before he had apparently slipped into recharge, to wake here.

In the communications officers berth and arms, tucked protectively inside the empty rib-struts where Soundwave's symbiots could dock.

"Prowl: less overwhelmed?" Soundwave's deep, smooth voice rumbled over and through him at this range.

"Much." Prowl confessed, then asked quietly. "Let me up?"

There was no urgency in the request, but his sensor panels were stiff and Prowl wanted to stretch before they did start to seize up on him.

Instead of speaking, Soundwave's rib struts rotated backwards, opening in front of Prowl, and the arm that had rested along his side moved casually away, though Soundwave did take the opportunity to stroke the entire side of Prowl's frame, from shoulder where the fingers had rested to halfway past his knee joints where Soundwave's reach ended.

"Prowl: recharge well?" Soundwave asked, his EM field close enough to Prowl's for the Praxian to catch that there was honest interest in the answer.

"I did." Prowl said, giving an honest answer, allowing Soundwave to finish the touch before moving away carefully. Once he was sure he had enough space the Praxian stretched, sensor panels spread to the point just before they would stress still recent repairs before falling back.

Stiffness mostly alleviated Prowl allowed himself a moment of reflection. It had been a little disconcerting, once he realized exactly how the large mech had been holding him, giving Prowl a brief moment of panic at the feeling of 'trapped'. Not so bad that he felt the need to mention it.

Only then did he realize something was different about Soundwave. _Very_ different. Prowl had to cycle his optics a couple times before his processor accepted what it was being fed by his optics.

Soundwave had retracted both battle mask and visor, revealing a strong, well-formed mouth and nose, and bright _white_ optics. Pure white. The color only higher-ranking Priests of Primus were allowed.

The ability to process was momentarily lost as all Prowl could do was focus on those optics. Sensor panels went from relaxed to clamped low to his back in submission, confusion.

Whether or not he believed in their deity was irrelevant at the moment as he tried to reconcile what he finally accepted he was seeing with what he knew of Soundwave and the relationship between the two of them.

"Soundwave: shown this truth to none since becoming a Decepticon," he brushed the insignia of their faction, branded just below the hollow of his throat with long, slender fingers. "Megatron and Prowl: only mechs who know Soundwave's prior function."

"Why?" Prowl asked, staring, shaking where he was. Why had Soundwave joined the Decepticons? Why did he have an interest in Prowl, someone who should have been so far beneath his notice? Why would he lower himself to do everything he had done for Prowl?

"Primus: teaches that all sparks are equal," Soundwave began, sitting up and giving a glance towards the glowing crystal statue of their god. "Soundwave: believes. Prowl: no less worthy for the frame Soundwave placed Prowl in."

"You...?" Prowl stared, processor flying at full speed in two different directions, _understanding_ what Soundwave was saying even as it did battle with his core conditioning.

"Soundwave: called a spark from the Allspark. Soundwave: placed that in Prowl's frame," the large mech nodded, his white optics and exposed features imploring Prowl to understand. "Prime: only calls sparks for politically powerful mechs. High Priests: call most sparks."

That at least was only logical, something easily understood and filed in the midst of everything else that was assaulting his processor at the moment. Soundwave insisted that he considered Prowl an equal, yet so much of Prowl's programming was insisting that he should be on knees before the larger mech. That he should be ashamed for even looking at him without invitation. That this same mech had brought him into functioning.

Prowl whimpered, seeking some sort of peace, some sort of balance within himself.

"Prowl: come." Soundwave's voice was imploring, his arms open as he reached out with his telepathy to ease some of Prowl's distress without thinking.

Instant, unquestioning obedience had Prowl in his arms, compliant with whatever Soundwave wished of him. Later, later Prowl might regret it, but for now obeying brought him peace.

It brought a little peace to Soundwave as well as their fields meshed and harmonized. Prowl was far too submissive, but that was expected so soon after this revelation. For the moment all Soundwave focused on was humming a soothing tune as he held the mech he wanted as an equal lover, a second creator for his symbiots. A calm, coherent Prowl was the immediate goal. Until then nothing more could be discussed.

So Soundwave watched the upper level of Prowl's mind without interfering and gave the mech all the time he needed to processes the information he'd been given.

It was quickly apparent that processing was the easy part. It was reconciling what he was being told with base programming and conditioning that the Praxian was having difficulty with.

Prowl believed what Soundwave was telling him, and that part wanted the equality that was being offered. Offers, not orders.

But a deeper part of him argued that the communications officer was his superior. Above him and to be treated as such. The mech was a High Priest of Primus, his superior, and to be respected as such. Orders as old as the mech bound by them.

"Orders?" He begged softly, the only solution he could find that would let this continue. Orders that he go. Orders to continue in submission. Orders that he fix his programming to comply, at least as much as possible. He had done so before- it could be done again.

Anything.

Soundwave x-vented softly, resigned.

"Prowl: Soundwave's equal." The big mech said firmly. "Prowl: without protocols demanding compliance. Soundwave: only a small rank above Prowl. Only Decepticon rank matters outside these quarters. There is no rank between Prowl and Soundwave within these quarters."

With a small nod and a fair amount of care Prowl went through and created equalities, changing small bits here and there within what Soundwave had given him and what Prowl's programming would allow as appropriate.

This time when the Praxian leaned into the larger mech it was personal, Prowl's desire to be held and comforted and not the submissive demands of his programming to obey the instructions he had been given.

Pleasure, relief, gratitude all flowed freely from Soundwave. Gradually, they both relaxed.

"Prowl: can tell Soundwave no now?"

Prowl looked over the alterations again and nodded. Direct orders given in a true command mode would still overpower any of his personal wishes, but if he was lucky those would be few and far between in private, if ever. The rest of the changes should please Soundwave, or so he hoped. "Against direct orders I will still have some problems. But other expressions- requests, desires- yes, I should be able to refuse. If I wish."

"Soundwave: pleased." He murmured, lightly stroking Prowl's backstrut. "Prowl: Something does not desire?"

Prowl tipped his head, looking up into the stunning optics, the captivating face, contemplating, and fluttered his sensor panels lightly, trusting. "Pain. Humiliation. Interfacing."

Soundwave shied away from the first two, but the third ... he could work with that. With little effort he shifted them both, laying Prowl on his back and looming over him. Skilled fingers ran along Prowl's chassis as Soundwave nudged Prowl's chin up to nip his throat.

Prowl squirmed underneath him, freezing for a moment at the touch to his throat. It wasn't bad, just ... uncomfortable. Something he wasn't ready for quite yet with this mech.

"Prowl: reciprocate." Soundwave demanded with a kiss to his throat.

A direct order. A visible struggle as the Praxian processed the order, weighing it against his need to obey, and the blanket directive from Soundwave. In conjunction with his own desires, with the orders to treat them as equal to Soundwave's, he was able to push at the larger mech's chest. "No."

Intense emotional pleasure rippled into Prowl's field from Soundwave as the larger mech smoothly and quickly lifted himself off of Prowl to sit on the berth. "Soundwave: pleased. Prowl: succeeded."

Without words, Soundwave shifted and opened his arms in a request/question if Prowl would be held once more.

Prowl came willingly, and clearly of his own choice to the other mech. "So I did." He murmured, and leaning in he kissed Soundwave.

It was light, chaste. But it was a voluntary action on Prowl's part as he settled into Soundwave's arms, content to be held, enveloped in the field and frame of a mech who wanted him, but wanted him on _Prowl's_ terms enough to order it and make sure Prowl was in charge of his own reactions and on the road to controlling his own future.


	8. Questions and Answers

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R for mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Field  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 08: Questions and Answers<p>**

* * *

><p>The situation in his office was far different from normal, so different that under any other circumstances Prowl would have been thoroughly irritated. Instead he found himself looking up every now and then in good humor at the symbiots wrestling on his floor and disturbing his personal space.<p>

Why Rumble and Frenzy both needed to be with him that orn was still a mystery, but it was a nice change. He reached for the next assignment, a simple analysis, and set to work as another squabble fired up.

"Hey, Prowl!" Frenzy suddenly spoke, his brother momentarily pinned with his face pushed into the floor. "When are you going to let the Boss have some?"

The Praxian twitched, distracted from his work by the question and considering how to frame into an answer something he had been considering himself. Not that he was sure the question was entirely appropriate coming from Frenzy, they deserved something. "When it will be mutually beneficial to all, I think."

"That's no answer," Rumble grumbled from the floor as he struggled to dislodge his brother. "What are you waiting for? I mean, seriously here, just what does he have to do to prove he's not out to hurt you?"

"I know he does not wish to harm me." Prowl replied quietly, sensor panels twitching in frustration as he sought _words_ to express what he felt. "It is just..."

"What do you _want_ from him then?" Frenzy asked instead. "Prowl, we're not the enemy here. We want the Boss happy, and that means you're happy. We've watched him turn down some _very_ good offers, waiting for you to mature. It's killing him that you'd berth a pleasurebot and not him."

"Even if he'll deny it completely," Rumble added, twisting under his distracted sibling to turn the tables. "He'll be furious if he finds out we're even bringing it up."

"Jazz is nothing more than a night of forgetfulness and educational relaxation." Prowl told them, told himself as he tried to believe his own words. "Soundwave is...much more. You all are much more than that. I wish to avoid doing something that will cause regret and pain later."

Though if what they were saying was true than Prowl was already doing what he was trying to avoid. Damned if did, damned if he didn't.

"Just ... don't make the Boss regret all the vorns he's put into you, waiting for you," Frenzy said, somewhere between plea and threat.

"Yeah, he'll do anything for you," Rumble said. "Even let you go, if that's what you really want. Just _tell_ him."

"Doesn't even need to be words," Frenzy added as he got Rumble pinned. "Just work out what it is and _think_ it. Or tell him to go digging for it."

"He'll do anything for you. _We'll_ do anything to protect him," Rumble said in a definite threat. "He's our master."

"It is not my intent to cause distress." Prowl replied, his own distress growing visible as he sat at the desk, work forgotten for the moment. He valued Soundwave, the time spent in the mech's company, and by extension in the company of the symbiots.

He did not wish to loose that.

He would..."I will speak with Soundwave tonight."

"Good," Rumble nodded as the pair distracted themselves with wrestling again.

* * *

><p>Prowl was tired when he reached Soundwave's door that night- he still thought of them as the communication officers quarters, no matter that he recharged here most nights instead of returning to his own each orn.<p>

Rumble and Frenzy had departed for an assignment of their own not long before Prowl was supposed to have gotten off shift. 'Supposed to' being the key phrase, since a pile of data had been dropped off just after their departure with an urgent analysis notation on it.

So here, joors later, Prowl was taking a moment outside the door to push all of that to the back of his processor and reviewing the conversation that with the symbiots from earlier in the day. Everything that he had told them about his relationship with them and their host was true.

The Praxian valued their company and the care they showed for him highly. He had thought he was doing an acceptable job expressing his sincere gratitude, spending as much off duty time as he could with Soundwave, and if not with him than with those he cared for.

Apparently he was falling short.

With a sigh Prowl opened the door, prepared to face whatever was to come his way and find a way to fix his shortcomings.

As soon as the door slid closed behind him Soundwave looked up from his workstation and clicked his face mask open to show his smile of welcome, though he did keep his visor down to conceal the white optics that disturbed Prowl.

"Prowl: distressed," Soundwave said quietly and stood to walk to the mech he hoped to call his lover one orn. "Why?"

"Rush analysis." It was true, and as good of a place to start as any. Sensor panels twitched in irritation. While Prowl understood that they did happen and were often out of anyone's control, it did not mean that they did not still annoy him.

Soundwave nodded and stepped close to Prowl, one hand reaching out to stroke a sensor wing gently, trying to sooth him. "What will make Prowl feel better?"

Prowl looked at him, torn and doing his best to hide it.

He knew what he wanted to do. What would relax him? An evening of peaceful reading with some energon, maybe playing with the symbiots if one or more of them wished, before falling into a well deserved recharge with Soundwave, to wake safe and well the next orn.

At the same time he couldn't forget the accusations of Rumble and Frenzy. Their points were valid. Soundwave was giving into Prowl on every point, and all Prowl had done was ask for more compromises on Soundwave's part in return.

His sense of balance rebelled at the realization, and he found himself looking up again. If that was all it would take to begin correcting the imbalance between them...

The sensor wing pressed into the gentle touch as Prowl tried to force his processor smooth into a state of peace.

Soundwave continued to caress the sensor wing gently, soothingly, and knelt to place their optics near level. "Soundwave: requests full honesty. What is bothering Prowl?"

Prowl vented softly, stepping forward to lean into Soundwave, field spreading out with an easy familiarity now. "Imbalance."

Emotion flooded Prowl's field as he stopped trying to make sense of it all and gave Soundwave the honesty the mech had asked for. How he had wronged Soundwave. How much he appreciated everything the communications officer had done for him. How much the sense of belonging and family Prowl had been exposed to meant to the Praxian.

In the middle of it all a want, a need to attempt to make it right. An offer, a willingness, to give Soundwave something in return. To ... try.

Strong arms wrapped around Prowl, drawing him closer, deeper into the welcoming, soothing EM field. Desire/arousal/want was wound deep in Soundwave's field, but it was still at a low enough level that it was barely noticeable. It was always in Soundwave's field around Prowl and they were both accustomed to it.

Now hyper-aware of what was going on with Soundwave, Prowl felt all the more guilty.

"Prowl: does not desire Soundwave as a lover," the host finally spoke, regret and resignation lacing his voice and field.

Guilt rolled off Prowl in waves at the truth that he was desperately seeking a reason for. Soundwave was handsome. Beyond that the mech was caring, kind, giving, and fiercely protective of what was _his_.

In every way he was the perfect partner, perfect lover, that a mech could ask for.

Which meant that there must be something wrong with Prowl. Something flawed in him, that he could not appreciate the perfection in front of him as deserved. "Show me where I am wrong."

"Emotion: not logical," Soundwave said as his field flared, wrapping Prowl in the full intensity of Soundwave's desire, arousal, _need_ that had been suppressed and existed with for as long as Prowl had functioned. "Desire: not always physical," he bit back a moan and pressed his mouth against Prowl's. ~Soundwave: loves Prowl.~

Love?

That emotion that was so foreign to Prowl, the one he still did not understand. The feeling that he could not define. Anger could be defined. Rage, passion, lust, affection- all of that Prowl had experienced, could put into words.

But this one emotion that Soundwave claimed to feel he could not find, was not sure he could feel.

He leaned into the kiss, accepting everything that Soundwave was pushing at him and denying nothing because he couldn't. He didn't know, but he wanted to understand, and in Soundwave he had a willing teacher who wanted him to understand.

Large strong hands caressed him. Clawtips pressed into seams. Lips and a glossa that knew how to please entirely too well worked down Prowl's jawline and to his throat. He leaned into the touches, accepting them, feeling them, holding on to Soundwave. Still too unsure to offer anything in return, but not rejecting what was being given.

An emotion maelstrom was pushed to the forefront of Soundwave's field and Prowl's attention directed at it. Part lust, part desire, part familial attachment, part hope, part a sense of _future_ all wrapped into one thing the large mech labeled 'love'.

"Like this?" Prowl asked, trying to understand. His desire to be in Soundwave's company, his need for the feelings of safety and protection that came with being with the large mech, and the peace it had brought him when he thought Soundwave was happy. The affection he felt for the symbiots, his desire to see them happy and well, his willingness to defend them without care of harm to himself.

Was that the same?

~Prowl's emotion: familial love,~ Soundwave murmured in his mind as he drew the smaller mech towards the berth. ~Soundwave's emotion: bondmate's love,~ he drew the differences forward, emphasizing the passion, the physical desire. ~Soundwave: no desire to interface with symbiots.~

So the love that Prowl felt was wrong? He searched, and cringed, clinging to Soundwave all the more, asking to be shown this passion that Soundwave felt for him. He felt passion...lust...but only ever for one.

Could he feel them for someone else?

He needed to know.

~Prowl's emotions: not _wrong_,~ Soundwave told him firmly, though he didn't hide that it hurt. ~Prowl's emotions: not what Soundwave hoped for.~

Then Soundwave slipped further into Prowl's processors and with a gentle touch for how strong the emotions and sensations were, drew Prowl into Soundwave's perspective.

With a shuddering moan Prowl felt the heat, the charge, the raw physical desire that consumed Soundwave every time they were near each other. It was lust, but lust directed at wanting to please another. The desire to be touched, kissed, held ... the way Jazz touched Prowl and made Prowl feel.

Prowl whimpered. He wanted Soundwave to be happy. Wanted him to be happy as Prowl was happy when he was near him. If that was what it took ... he was at least willing to try. He focused his attention outward, to his frame and tactile sensors. He was laying on his front, inside Soundwave's rib struts. Tentacles snaked around him, under his armor, over his sensor wings.

Pleasure as intense as any he'd experienced bloomed across Prowl's frame and processor. His EM field extended, seeking to feel who it was that was causing this and to share the sensations that were drowning him in pleasure.

Hands extended outward, reaching for something to hold on to, to ground himself with since his frame couldn't choose one touch to lean into among the many. Soundwave's frame was strong under him, steady for him as his own frame spiraled out of his control. The telepath's field wrapped around Prowl, feeling the pleasure Soundwave felt back into Prowl.

It was bliss, pure and unrestrained. Physical and emotional. Prowl's chassis, Soundwave's emotions. Mingled and sharing until there was no way for Prowl to tell what came from where.

It was simply exquisite in the purest sense.

Prowl melted into the seamless sharing, feeding the physical pleasure building to the point of almost unbearable across his frame into the bliss and receiving the emotion in return, the balance so perfectly right in the moment.

It would startle him later, when he thought about it, but in the moment the deep rumbling and explosion of energy from Soundwave's overload tore any ability to think from Prowl's processor as it dragged him over the edge with Soundwave.


	9. Not Just For Pleasure

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, First Time, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 09: Not Just For Pleasure<p>**

* * *

><p>Prowl was still working on a datapad when Hook finished installing his latest upgrade, a penetrative interface modal. While it was sensor rich enough to put his sensor wings to shame, it wasn't an invasive procedure so Hook simply blocked the neural net in the area and told Prowl to not move his lower frame.<p>

"Prowl," the Decepticon CMO demanded his attention. "One last thing before I turn this on. Do you want the seals intact?"

Prowl finished the planning point quickly before giving his entire attention to the engineer. "Is there a reason to have them removed?"

"Personal preference," the Constructicon shrugged. "If I do it now, you won't feel it. Most let their lover have that honor, but it will hurt."

The Praxian was quiet as he considered, running several scenarios through his processor before reaching a decision. "Leave them."

Hook nodded and made a quick, easy movement that turned Prowl's full sensory net on. "Any pain?"

Sensors activated, Prowl could feel the new upgrade as it finished integrating with the rest of his systems. The Praxian ran a check and shook his head. "No."

A hard tap, just shy of pain, on the cover of his new equipment.

"Unpleasant, not painful," Prowl reported.

A stroke, light and causing the entire module to tingle. A HUD message popped up, asking if he wanted to accept the arousal activation.

The message was inspected, then denied. "That was...pleasant."

Hook nodded and removed his hand. "You're planning to break it in tonight with Soundwave?"

"That was a consideration. I am still debating on the best course of action." Prowl responded. He had been wavering on how he wanted to go about investigating this upgrade and still had yet to reach a decision on the best course of action.

Hook gave him a hard look. "If you have _any_ thoughts of investigating it without a lover who _knows_ what they're doing, let me remove the seals now with the sensors off. I know you're not a hard-core masochist. Having the seals broken poorly will hurt enough to send you to me for repairs."

"I had no such intentions." Prowl answered, voice level. "And I would assume that Soundwave meets with your approval at least, since you were the one to mention it."

"He _is_ your lover," Hook said, though his expression made it a question with a bit of concern. "Who else would you be fooling around with _that_ seriously?"

"No one of concern to you, save that it is with Soundwave's approval." Or at least it had always been before, and Prowl hoped for at least one more chance to see the silver mech that still invaded his thoughts at some of the most inappropriate times. That opening a new line of thought he did not want to consider at the moment Prowl grew abruptly irritated with the line of questioning. "Is there anything else?"

Hook gave him a long, hard glare but shook his head. "No, just don't let me see you in here for some stupid interfacing accident. I'll have _both_ your spikes if you do."

Prowl nodded, understanding and real thanks conveyed in the simple gesture as he made his way out. While little had changed in his routine, there were a few small things that needed to be seen to before Prowl could enjoy his scheduled company and forget for a while.

* * *

><p>Prowl looked around his quarters, struck by how barren and empty they seemed after having grown accustomed to sharing Soundwave's and the symbiot's for so long. It would be somewhat of an adjustment, he was sure, if he had to return to living on his own, even though he had managed to functions for vorns in that state without problems. Still, the alone would not be for long this orn, and a quiver of excitement traveled through Prowl.<p>

The door ping with Jazz's ID drew him from his thoughts and he signaled the door open for the silver mech. Was it his imagination, or was Jazz polished to an even finer shine? His armor gleamed chromed silver taken to a near mirror finish.

"Hello there, lover," Jazz purred as he entered, every move carefully calculated to entice his audience of one.

Prowl smiled, holding out his hands as his optics flashed, perfectly willing to be enticed, wanting the silver mech in his arms. "Hello to you."

"Good to see you smile, Prowl," Jazz purred, snuggling into the larger mech's chest with a kiss to the seam over his spark chamber. "How has your decaorn been?"

Prowl paused, both at the comment and as he considered his answer to the question. "Intense." He replied, finally settling on an answer that encompassed everything that had happened. All that he had learned, all that had happened, and all that was still weighing on his processor.

"And yours?" He asked softly, wondering what kind of answer he would receive in return, questions rising that he had never considered before as he held Jazz.

"Very productive," he smiled and stretched up for a kissing nip on Prowl's lips. "Glad to be back in your arms. Wish it wasn't so long between visits."

"It would be nice to be able to see you more often." Prowl purred softly against Jazz's helm, honest. Nice to be able to get to know and understand this mech who captivated him so. Who invaded his thoughts at the most random of times and brought out parts of Prowl that no one else seemed able to find.

"Glad that you are here now." He concluded with a play lick of his own to one of the sensor horns.

Jazz shivered against him and reached up to slid his fingers along Prowl's neck. "We could ... if your mech doesn't mind."

And with that he put his finger on the one thing that Prowl could not be sure of. Soundwave had made his desires and intents clear, and the Praxian was not sure how much longer his time with the mech he held in his arms would be allowed. Abruptly he dismissed the thoughts, choosing to live in the here and now, for the moment, while he had the chance.

"We will have to see." He managed.

"Then we will," Jazz assured him and snuck another kiss. "You've gotten an upgrade since I saw you last," he went for a distraction.

"Hm, and here I thought I might have to ask you to help me with something tonight."

Jazz chuckled softly and stole a kiss before sliding one hand down Prowl's chest to stroke his codpiece. "It's my function to notice these kinds of things. I have to know what a client has, you know."

Prowl quivered at the touch, more intense then the light brush of Hook's hand earlier. A moment later and he was mostly in control once more. "Then you have no objections to educating me in its use?"

"It would be my pleasure," Jazz shivered, flaring his field sharply in desire as he claimed another kiss. "Berth?"

"It does seem like the most logical place for this lesson." Prowl agreed, his own desire intensifying in response to Jazz's washing over him, guiding them both to the berth before pulling Jazz into a kiss. "Where do we begin?"

"Mmm, how about the fantasy that convinced you to have it installed?" Jazz suggested with a throaty hum before nibbling his way down Prowl's jaw to his throat.

"Something I do wish to actually experience." Prowl agreed, attempting to imagine how it would feel, and even more turned on the by the idea that it would please his lover. "But..."

"But?" Jazz purred encouragingly. "You know it won't disturb me. Nothing you can say will disturb me."

"I know." Prowl responded, taking a moment to bask in that acceptance before explaining. "But I wish for you to enjoy it as well, and I believe that will only work if I know what I am doing as well."

Jazz hummed his understanding. "Well then," he murmured, sliding down Prowl's chassis until he kissed the center of his new codpiece. "Let's start with having you experience an overload or six by your new equipment."

Prowl whimpered quietly, this time allowing the cover to slide away, baring the new components to his lover, trusting completely. Jazz's sharp in-vent of air caught his attention, than the intense ripple of arousal-awe-desire assaulted his field from Jazz's.

"Oh, Prowl," Jazz's voice reflected his field. "Yes, I definitely need to see to you first." His tone turned serious as he settled between Prowl's spread legs. "I don't want this to hurt, so it's important that you don't send a command to pressurize your spike. Let arousal do it and nothing else."

"All right." Prowl agreed quietly, sure from Jazz's field that he had made the right decision, but wondering at the seriousness of the directions. Then all thoughts were banished from his processor as Jazz's mouth pressed lightly around his spike housing. That too-talented glossa made slow, gentle circles around the edge of the seal before gradually spiraling inward.

Sensations raced from the touch through Prowl, leaving the Praxian grasping at the berth as he whimpered.

Jazz hummed, adding vibration to the attentions of his glossa. Patience radiated from the small mech, encouraging Prowl to relax and simply enjoy with no pressure to perform.

Soothed, or at least as much as he could be when his entire chassis was reacting to what the silver mech was doing, Prowl sought that place that allowed him to just feel what Jazz had to offer and enjoy it. His systems charged quickly, the loose energy bouncing from one circuit to another.

A deep, ragged moan escaped Prowl. The new interfacing protocols caused his hips to roll upwards, into the delicious sensations. Distantly he could feel the pressure building against his seal as his spike began to pressurize without his consent.

The sheer pleasure was glorious, clouding everything else except the desire coursing through him. "Let it happen?" he asked again, not really thinking about what he was doing, only just remembering.

"Yes," Jazz purred. "You can command your spike to pressurize, your valve to lubricate, but a good lover, a mark of _desire_ is for it to happen without your command."

Oh, Prowl was not commanding anything as he pushed his hips towards Jazz. He was begging for more of whatever Jazz was doing, the pressure building a counterpoint to the wonderful, blissful sensation. And on top of what he was feeling was that voice that was encouraging him to enjoy what was happening, guiding him through something new and wonderful and creating memories Prowl was sure he would replay many times.

A sharp tearing pain right where Jazz's mouth was made Prowl's vents stutter, but even before the sting had faded or been fully recognized he felt warmth, slickness and pressure in an entirely new way. His HUD informed him that his spike was pressurizing and his spike seal had been successfully breached.

Prowl moaned, acknowledging the messages and pushing them aside without consciously processing them. Later he could analyze and isolate the triggers if he wanted, but for now traces of pain were buried by the skilled touches of a lover.

His lover.

Oh, he _liked_ that word, liked it applied to the incredible silver mech between his legs and doing indescribably wonderful things to his neural net centered on his spike.

He loved Soundwave, but Jazz was his _lover_.

Prowl's hands dug into the berth in a desperate attempt to ground himself while his hips thrust upwards and a roar was torn from his vocalizer. The sensation he had come to identify as overload crashed over him, washing through him and sweeping him away with pure pleasure from a new source. A small edge was still aware of his lover, field spreading out and filled with wonder.

The high was just as potent, but it abated much more quickly than the tactile overloads from his wings or frame. As Prowl drifted back towards full awareness he realized that Jazz's mouth was still on his spike, but the sensation was gentler, easing him from the overload in a very pleasant way.

A soft moan and disjointed phrases of thanks and pleasure and praise escaped Prowl as he reached out, hand tracing along Jazz's helm as Prowl gave into his own need to touch. The silver helm pressed into the contact as Jazz allowed Prowl's spike to slide from his mouth.

"Would you like to feel a valve around it now?" Jazz's voice was trembling in his own arousal, his field almost burning with the charge seeking an outlet.

A low hum from Prowl as though he actually had to consider it as he drew Jazz up, claiming the silver mechs lips, curious to taste. Those delectable lips parted under his willingly, eagerly taking Prowl's glossa in to experience the moderately viscous, oily and tangy transfluid with a lingering charge. "Even better?"

"Mmm," Jazz merely hummed into the kiss until Prowl let it go. "Most think so," he purred.

That earned him a soft laugh, amused and deeply affectionate as Prowl kissed his sensor horns and held him close to whisper. "I very much want to feel your valve around my spike for the first time."

With a shudder and relieved, needy whimper Jazz gave him a heated kiss before sliding down his chassis once more. Jazz snapped his valve cover open, already slick enough from honest arousal and desire not to need any of his function's tricks to be ready. He reached between his legs as he settled above Prowl's hips and kept his touch light as he guided the head of Prowl's simple but delightfully perfectly sized spike to the soft rim of his valve.

"Been fantasizing about this from the moment I saw you," Jazz admitted, moaning as he lowered himself onto that perfect spike, enveloping the thick, hard shaft in the slick heat of a valve that twitched and contracted in sequence without any conscious effort. "I enjoy it all, but I'm a real valve mech. Nothing feels so good as a thick, hard spike inside me."

Prowl was barely able to process what Jazz was saying, overwhelmed by the slick pressure and heat around his spike, sensations that he had not been able to imagine with his limited experience. His entire frame jerked when Jazz began to move, amplifying the heat and pleasure a hundred fold.

"Oh, babe, you feel _so_ good," Jazz nearly sobbed, his charge already critical. The calipers in his valve cycled as he rolled his hips, lifting off Prowl's before driving down again to rub every sensor node in both systems.

A loud cry of pleasure escaped Prowl and then Jazz moved to repeat the motion Prowl grabbed the silver mech's hips, driving up to meet him.

"Yes!" Jazz screamed, trying to hold off an overload that was not going to be denied much longer. "Take me, Prowl!"

Prowl wasn't entirely sure what he was doing. There was no thought to skill or performance, only that he wanted this processor-blowing sensation to continue and that Jazz was pleased as well.

Holding tight to the silver mech he drove his spike into that wonderful tightness again and again, every movement sending ever more powerful jolts of ecstasy through his systems. The charge licking his chassis from Jazz's, the ripples of energy that invaded his spike from all sides and every node torn his thoughts away completely.

Then Jazz leaned forward, his frame stiff and dancing with energy as his fingers clawed into Prowl's chest vents, seeking a purchase to hold onto as the overload exploded across his frame. It was almost intense enough to pull his chest plates open.

Prowl was so swept up in his own overload the silver mech's actions were lost, knowing only that he was falling into a glorious oblivion that seemed to only consist of pleasure, his entire frame reacting in way it never had to any previous overload.

* * *

><p>Gradually, still hazy with pleasure, Prowl came back on line. His spike was still hard and buried deep in the tight, hot pleasure. His frame and every system still near redlined from the overload. His hands still gripped tightly to Jazz's hips and the sleek silver minibot was collapsed against his chest, trembling.<p>

"Jazz?" It came out as a whisper, hand rising to caress the trembling mech's back, what other energy he could spare diverted to his field, reaching out to the smaller mech.

"Primus," Jazz managed to mutter, his own pleasure-drenched field reaching out in reply. "Never felt anything like that before."

Coming back more to himself as he continued to cool down from the overload high, Prowl processed that and allowed his surprise to show as he continued to stroke the silver mech's back soothingly. "Never?"

"Na-ah," Jazz mumbled, still beyond exhausted. "Nearly opened mah chest."

Drained himself, Prowl was more than content to lay there with the smaller mech sprawled across his frame, and recover. Curiosity bled into his field. "That is not something that should happen?"

"Not for meh," Jazz murmured, his trembling gradually subsiding as he cooled. "Nah without ah bond, or ah desire for one."

Prowl's hands went still as he considered that, questions rising to the surface, some of them related to Jazz's functioning and probably rather personal and others what he suspected were gaps in his own knowledge. "I am sorry."

"Don't be," Jazz nuzzled his chest lightly. "It was really good."

Prowl purred, deeply content, the sound vibrating through him and into Jazz. "Enough so that a repeat might be in order some time?" He asked, teasing and hopeful at the same time.

"Anytime you're inclined to," Jazz's purr mingled with Prowl's as his fingers finally unlocked from Prowl's chest vents. "Though I'd like to see to your valve seal before I have to leave."

A flash of displeasure and sadness from Prowl at the reminder that Jazz would be leaving him. "If you want to."

"I don't have to," the minibot quickly backpedaled, his frame going tense on pure reflex at the fact that his client was not happy. "We can do whatever you want."

Prowl held on to him, gentle. "I want to spend more time with you, something neither of us can change at the moment." His hands started moving over Jazz's frame again, seeking to ease the tension he had inadvertently caused. "I will be sad to watch you leave again. But until then-" He tipped the mech's face to catch the tempting lips with his own. "I wish to enjoy what time we have together, if you are agreeable."

"Always," Jazz trembled in relief this time and returned the kiss. "I ... am willing to spend my off-joor with you. As a real lover, not a paid one." Even as he said it, he felt his core coding rebel, making his spark constrict painfully. He didn't care that it went against his very function, against all his better interests as a pleasurebot. He _wanted_ this mech.

Prowl was momentarily startled before he pulled the silver mech against him and kissed him, fierce and possessive. "I would like that very much."

It was a chance, more than Prowl had possibly hoped for, to spend time with this mech in his arms. Time on their terms.

"Soundwave won't mind?" Jazz asked uneasily. He knew the real answer; Soundwave would mind very much. He already minded how close Jazz was to Prowl. But Prowl ... might not comprehend that yet. Prowl might not comprehend what Soundwave viewed him as yet, much less the expectations that came with it.

The hesitation was not lost on Prowl, and he settled back, holding Jazz as he considered. "You believe he will." That conclusion was easy to reach, and he vented softly, nuzzling at Jazz. "We will see. It is what I desire, so perhaps...he will be willing to indulge me."

"I'm surprised he's still allowing you to be with anyone else, including me," Jazz nodded and laid his helm on Prowl's chest, listing to the strong spark there. "Especially me. It's kinda an insult ... implies he's not good enough to keep you happy." Jazz looked up, meeting Prowl's optics. "Much as I don't want to say it, you should give the mech a chance. He's a good mech, a _powerful_ mech, he'd make a very good mate."

Prowl vented, very confused and a little distressed at the conflicting feelings running through him. "You too then." He said softly, more to himself than the mech looking at him.

Soundwave was good to him. Very good to him. And Prowl loved him. He was also very good in the berth, always conscious of Prowl and making Prowl feel good, sharing with him and telling the Praxian he loved him.

But... He whimpered softly.

"Realistic," Jazz murmured. "He's got a lot of power, Decepticon TIC, contacts all over Cybertron, wealth I'll never come close to. He can provide better than I ever will. At the end of the orn, I still sell my frame for credits. I won't ever be able to give you what you deserve. I can't be exclusive. Not without changing my basic function. Sometimes you have to look out for the one you care about." He reached out to stroke Prowl's chest seam. "As much as I want you ... I'd give everything for you, to you ... I can't compete with Soundwave."

Strong hands ran over Jazz, thinking, memorizing. Prowl was still confused, still torn, and the mech in his arms was not making it any easier. Some of what Jazz said made sense, completely in line with what his logic was telling him. And then there were other things that the silver mech said, things that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with want.

With need.

"I will speak with Soundwave."

Jazz nodded, then lowered his helm to Prowl's chest.

"Maybe ... not until he stops booking you time with me?" Jazz suggested in a tiny voice. "Forgiveness is easier to get than permission..."

The rather twisted logic in that Prowl saw right away. "Not until he stops arranging for us to see each other." He agreed quietly. Saying anything before then might only cut their time together shorter, something Prowl was unwilling to risk.

Jazz purred and nuzzled him affectionately. "Still feel like breaking your valve seal?"

"Would you enjoy helping me with that?" A finger rose to run lightly over Jazz's face.

"Very much," Jazz purred, turning his face into the touch. "Your pleasure is addictive."

"Show me what it is you enjoy so much. Please."

Jazz nodded and opened the interface panel on his chest, mutely offering his cable and port to Prowl. His field, however told an entirely different story. He was ecstatic, aroused, eager to share how much he wanted this beautiful Praxian.

A matching set was revealed on Prowl, fingers reaching up to brush lightly over Jazz's chest, considering. The one time he they had done this before he had revealed far more about himself than he ever to anyone else. A sharing that he still recalled with pleasure and an odd sort of comfort. He plugged into Jazz smoothly and waited, welcoming the other mech into his systems.

This time Jazz nudged Prowl's awareness towards Jazz and the maelstrom of desire there. Heavily steeped in physical arousal, yet also bright and intense was the pleasure, physical and emotional, that rose in Jazz as he slipped between Prowl's legs as traced his fingers lightly around the seal protecting Prowl's new valve.

"There's no way this won't hurt," Jazz said softly, his glossa moving to spiral slowly around the thicker seal. "But like the one over your spike, I'll make it as good as possible. The pain should be an afterthought."

"I know." Want and desire in this words, Prowl bracing himself for something he knowingly set himself up for.

Acceptance and trust filtered over the connection, and the ghost of a hesitant emotion still not completely acknowledged by the one feeling it, something more than simple lust.

"I'm ready."

Jazz nodded and focused Prowl's attention on what the mech wanted; Jazz's responses to causing pleasure. Deeply ingrained, part of the core coding of every pleasurebot, it served a simple purpose; to make their function an agreeable one. With most clients unconcerned with the pleasure of those they paid, gaining pleasure directly from the enjoyment of others was what made the pleasurebot caste so different, worth more credits for their time, than the down and out mechs trying to get credits for energon by selling the only thing they had.

All the while Jazz slowly worked the thick membrane with his glossa; warming it, stretching it, working every sensor node he had access too.

Acceptance and understanding as Prowl equated it with the contentment and satisfaction he got from obeying and pleasing those he worked for when given a task.

And with an instant feedback of the growing pleasure from what Jazz was doing to him physically and personal pleasure that it was _Jazz_ that was the one making him feel that way.

Jazz shivered and hummed, his internal pleasure spiking sharply. ~Love you, Prowl,~ Jazz murmured across the hardline. ~You're so perfect. So beautiful. So strong.~

Acceptance of the feeling Jazz expressed. Denial that he was he was anything so special, so wonderful. And an edge offering what Prowl saw when he looked at Jazz- grace, beauty, life, and a joy in living life that Prowl was still just learning to understand and treasure.

Adding to his efforts to fully arouse Prowl's valve and cause a buildup of lubrication on the interior side of the seal, Jazz gently rubbed two fingers slick with transfluid and lubricant around the edge of the seal.

~Then accept that _I_ see all that in you,~ Jazz purred, his entire frame beginning to quiver in anticipation of the ecstasy to come. ~Even if you don't see it in yourself.~

Agreement and a willingness to do that as Prowl squirmed, sorting through the unfamiliar input from his new valve and picking up on Jazz's excitement, wanting to share in it. It felt _good_. Not the intense level of good that the attention to his spike caused at this stage, but still...

A low, soft moan of pleasure escaped Prowl, flaring Jazz's arousal higher. Distantly, Prowl was aware that Jazz believed his responses to Prowl were much stronger than normal; they went beyond his core programming.

Even that pleased Prowl, the idea that he was able to make Jazz feel beyond his programming pushed his own arousal higher. It didn't take much longer, less than a breem, for the feedback loop and Jazz's efforts to push Prowl into his first valve overload.

As Prowl's backstrut arched off the berth and processors briefly whited out, Jazz shifted to drive his spike fully into the clenching, slick valve with a shaking moan of his own. He managed three thrusts, completely rending the seal before Prowl came back enough to catch up with what was happening.

The pain that Jazz had warned him of was there, flashing through him and lingering but fading. The pleasure that Jazz had promised chased it from his conscious, his entire attention captured by the silver mech thrusting into him, the processor blowing sensation of a spike in his valve, stretching, filling, and sending waves of pleasure through him. Every thrust lit the multitude of sensors in his valve, but it was a very different pleasure than the stroke of a hand on his sensor wings. Feeling Jazz's pleasure; intense, white-hot and being held back until Prowl caught up with him again was a different kind of bliss that only added to the wonderful sensations.

Prowl whimpered, everything adding together into a rapidly building charge. "Jazz..." Pleading, begging through the blinding pleasure, feeding into the connection how much he wanted, desired, needed the smaller mech.

Desire, raw and a little frightening in its newness and intensity, rippled outwards in reply from Jazz even as the pace of the thrusts picked up. Desire that was unique from Jazz's perspective in that it wasn't physical, it was for _Prowl_.

Prowl cried out, the feeling of being wanted and wanting in return as he reached out to Jazz, his second overload rolling through him as he arched off the berth. Jazz's sharp, startled keen as he overloaded in response echoed between them, intensifying the pleasure of transfluid spurting into a clenching valve as Jake's chassis took over, thrusting hard and deep with each burst.

"Oh, Prowl," Jazz whispered, shocked to his core at his own reactions even as he cautiously embraced them, embraced that there might just be a 'we' in his future despite his function. "My beautiful Prowl," he murmured, slumping, forward as his charge bled out.

Drained but so wonderfully content with the state, it was all Prowl could do at first to lie there, systems purring softly. Finally he found the energy to stroke Jazz's back slowly. "My handsome Jazz." He murmured in reply, awe and wonder flowing across the connection unchecked.

"We are a pair, aren't we?" Jazz chuckled as he relaxed in the sated afterglow. "I've spent my entire functioning told that love isn't for my caste but wanting it anyway. You've spent nearly your entire functioning suppressing any desire for emotional connections."

"Only to find them anyway." Prowl replied, so completely content in resting there with Jazz, wanting the now to last forever, even if he knew it couldn't. "Stay with me?"

"Yes and yes," Jazz smiled up from where he was sprawled over Prowl's abdominal plates and lower chest. "I don't have anywhere to be until a breem after your shift starts."

"Thank you." Prowl moved slowly, gathering the smaller mech into his arms as Jazz responded to Prowl's desire by pulling out of his valve and sliding up his chassis. Together they settled down., blissful content in the moment to exist as they were in each others arms.


	10. Some Things Just Aren't Right

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: OCs, Jazz/Prowl, Jazz/other  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R mech/mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Rape, Public Interfacing  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Prowl walks on in a gangbang of a mech in the officer's washrack.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 10: Some Things Just Aren't Right<p>**

* * *

><p>As reluctant as he'd been to leave his berth and the warm comfort of Jazz curled and snuggling against him, so different from booting up inside Soundwave's rib struts, having his lover - and <em>oh<em> did he enjoy indulging in using that term to describe Jazz - walk beside him to the officer's communal washrack a few doors down from his quarters was a very welcome thing. It added a little more to that fantasy of being an actual couple; they were cleaning up for their duty shifts after a perfectly normal recharge cycle together. No one gave them more than a glance. Not a single double take, no comments about the scuffs and color nanite transfers they both still sported. Just the occasional nod of acknowledgement due by Prowl's rank, the occasional cheery greeting to or from Jazz.

The little silver mech was clearly well known among the officers, but even more in this place of constant backstabbing, he seemed to be well liked. Not feared ... yet no one looked at him in a predatory way either that most mechs who weren't feared faced.

Even Prowl was feared, though more for what he could do to a mech on the battlefield with his plans than what he could do to on in the corridors, and what Soundwave would do to protect him, of course. He had at least a vorn of ornly training before he could even begin to hold his own against the non-frontliners in a fight. It would be a dozen vorns or more before he'd be respected for his holding his own against the common warriors. He had no illusions about his ability to hold his own against the true warriors such as Starscream or Megatron, _ever_.

The door to the washrack slid open when he pinged it, allowing a small billow of solvent, cleanser and rinser steam into the corridor. With a reflexive scan of his optics and other passive sensors he picked up one mech, Whiplash, on the far right. Despite being only a handspan taller than Jazz and just as lightly built, the black mech was as feared as Megatron, and for much the same reasons. Both were deadly on and off the battlefield with a cold temper and utter disregard for the sparks of others when it came to maintaining discipline.

On the far side from Whiplash was a gathering of five mechs.

Prowl x-vented in resignation. He _really_ didn't need an interfacing party with Jazz right next to him. It was going to be hard enough to keep his hands off the beautiful silver mech as it was.

Unfortunately, other options for cleaning up were limited. There was a relatively high chance of similar activity in the common washracks, and showing up with Jazz at his side to use Soundwave's was not a viable option either.

With a last apologetic brush of his field against the small mech next to him, Prowl pulled all of his emotions together and resolutely clamped down on them. A visible change ran through him, subtle as it was, as his sensor panels stiffened and his entire frame straightened, the edge of ease being with Jazz brought him vanishing.

Jazz hummed thoughtfully at the change and walked in. While it would be easy to miss, for Prowl, who was trying to avoid looking at the small orgy to his left anyway, it was clear that Jazz was not happy with the situation either.

::Any clue why that's tolerated?:: Jazz opened a private comm as they turned on the solvent shower.

While Prowl was not looking at the show taking place he could hear it just fine. He considered his answer as he waited for the solvent to warm before stepping under the stream, allowing it to wash over his plating and soothe just a little of the tension away.

::Because there is no good reason to stop it, and stopping it would cause more damage than allowing it to go on does.:: Prowl tone was clearly resigned as he repeated an answer that he had been given, and one that he still did not agree with. The only thing he was sure of was that Jazz physically recoiled from him.

::Prowl, that mech's not willing, and he's got getting paid either,:: Jazz's tone was cautious, though how ill the scene made him was layered in it clearly. ::Decepticon officers are raping a Decepticon soldier, and it would cause more harm than good to stop it?::

The Praxian's sensor panels quivered before going stiff again. ::They would turn their attention to other things. More destructive things.:: There was distress and regret in his tone, distress that ran deep and clearly troubled the mech speaking.

Jazz was silent for a long time, nearly long enough for them to finish cleaning up. It was long enough for the gang rape to break up, leaving only the young grunt in the corner, trying to pull himself together enough to make it somewhere relatively safe to recover.

::Much as I hate a lot of the old system, something's wrong with any system that finds that okay,:: he murmured, not actually asking for a response, but merely stating his beliefs. ::At least the Senate gave lip service to having rights to your own interface systems.::

Prowl vented softly beside him, flicking the last of his solvent off his sensor. Except that lip service was all that it had been. Technically what had just occurred across the room from them was not allowed among the Decepticon ranks, but the one time that Prowl had dared to say anything about it he had been promptly reminded of his place.

Among subordinates he could interfere as he felt inclined, but it only created hard feelings all around in culture that placed a great emphasis on individual strength. Among the officers... he was very junior still, and it was not his place to protest what his superiors did.

::If you are not strong enough to defend yourself, or have allies willing to do so, then you are subject to whatever happens to you.:: He observed, the words hard for him to choke out around his own programming.

::I guess honesty is preferable,:: Jazz murmured very quietly. ::You've been lucky, having Soundwave's protection and Megatron's favor. When will you want your quarters back?::

::Back?:: Prowl looked at him, slightly relieved at being distracted.

::He needs medical attention and he'll be much more likely to stick around long enough for it under an officer's apparent protection,:: Jazz explained. ::I'll have him out before you want your quarters back.::

The Praxian started at him, stunned for a moment. The idea had not occurred to him, that there was something he could do subtly. ::As long as you need them. I spend most of my time in Soundwave's quarters unless I am with you. If you can ... I would be interested in knowing what happens.::

::Thanks,:: Jazz smiled warmly and caressed one of Prowl's sensor wings as he passed. ::I'll tell you as much as I find out.::

As Prowl watched, Jazz got the mech to his feet with the kind of absolute authority that only senior officers usually had. Even though the grunt was larger, more heavily armed and armored, and likely a better fighter than Jazz, there was absolutely no question that the small, lithe mech was the authority and wielded it effectively.

Curiosity flared in Prowl, several question being quickly filed away to ask his lover the next time they met. A notice caught his attention, warning him that if he did not depart soon he would be late for his shift.

With one last look at the new side of his lover helping the abused grunt down the hall he set off, setting the rising doubts in his processor aside until he had the time to properly analyze them.

* * *

><p>The shooting range was almost empty, quiet except for the steady shooting of the Praxian, each shot frightening accurate. His attention was focused, but not tense, the steady motions smooth and controlled as he went from one target to the next. It was soothing, and so easy that it allowed him to delegate processing power to other things, working through problems as methodically as his shooting.<p>

He was absently aware that activity in the range slowed down the longer he was there, that he was drawing a crowd. He heard the whispers, the tones. IDed the owners, did his best to ID the emotions represented. Some officers he knew, several mechs he didn't know, but all spoke in some combination of shock, awe and respect.

::Should I be concerned?:: He wasn't yet, and he trusted the symbiot watching over him. He did not trust his comrades.

::No,:: Laserbeak cackled over the comm, utterly delighted by the spectacle. ::You're finally being seen for the dangerous mech you are. It's a _good_ thing, those whispers. You're one of the best shots any of them have seen.::

::Potential benefits.:: The idea that even if he couldn't take them down hand to hand he could shoot them later would be a deterrent to some. An errant shot on the field in the midst battle might never be tracked back to friendly fire-

Prowl's processor stuttered, his next shot still hitting the target but going slightly off the mark as his processor caught up with just what his tactical computer was suggesting.

Did he really just contemplate that?

Did he really want to support a society and faction where such a thought was not only normal but the expectation?

Because he knew, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, that it was exactly what those watching were thinking.

::What made you _think_?:: Laserbeak asked with a low coo of concern.

Prowl finished the sequence, lowering his blaster as he allowed the range evaluation to compute as he answered. ::I could, would, fire on any of them who so much as threatened us, and feel no regret.::

::Not a bad thing,:: Laserbeak pointed out. ::Most of them would do the same. If they believe you will retaliate it will do more than we can to protect you. Not every mech who is feared can protect themselves in the moment, but they can retaliate in a devastating way.::

::Is this what we are fighting for?:: Prowl asked, allowing how disturbed he was at the idea to show in his tone, even though none of his emotion was evident on his face or in his posture.

Not even pleasure or satisfaction showed when the evaluation came back, perfect except for the one missed shot.

::For power, for the right to abuse those we are supposed to be fighting with and kill those who offend or threaten us as we please?::

::Better for us to choose than the Senate,:: the avian spat, but Prowl caught the sub-harmonics of Laserbeak's own distress that this wasn't the same faction or cause that his master had signed up for.

::Doesn't it all come back to the same thing? Suffering at the whims of others?:: Prowl asked softly, resetting the target sequence, altering the parameters to include computer generated variables this time. He had time to run another session through, to try and work through this.

He was not fighting for equality. That was no logic in the ideal, in fact it was functionally impossible. But equal chance was not unreasonable, and neither was personal choice. The system he had turned his back on had not always been, but the one that loomed before him was not as bright as it had seemed when he made the change.

Laserbeak was quiet for a very long time, nearly half the set.

::We gave our vow of loyalty,:: he said uneasily. ::Megatron is our master's master.::

He did not receive an answer until the set was finished and the computer tabulating again. ::And if Megatron proves to be no better than the senate?::

Traitorous thoughts, considered carefully before they were thought and worded so they were not yet outright rebellion.

::We will be rebelled against,:: Laserbeak answered simply.

Prowl considered that while he checked his weapon over. He had time for another short round, and the shooting was helping him think, even if the conclusions he was coming to were troubling.

His scores for the sequence with random variables came back, well above acceptable, if not as good as his first round. This set he downloaded the data from, wanting to analyze it later and determine what had caused his inaccuracies so he could correct them.

A moment spared to check the identity of those watching as his considered his last set. The one he was considering would take more of his attention. ::Watch for me?::

::Always,:: Laserbeak responded.

Confident no one would bother him, or at least if they did he would have ample warning, Prowl started his last round. The targets were moving much faster and with more variables, testing his ability to process as well as his reflexes this time.

Above him and between Prowl and those watching, the avian symbiot made his watch obvious to all. Wings spread, head swiveling far more than required. It was a blatant reminder to all that the deadly sniper they were watching had a spotter that was deadly in his own right. It had the desired results in making those who were feeling aggressive settle down.

Yes, everyone knew that Prowl was learning to fight and couldn't even take down Smokescreen yet. Now everyone knew that Prowl was a crack shot.

Soon everyone would know that the heavy pulse rifle designed for ranged targets - a sniper's weapon - wasn't the only weapon Prowl excelled with. In a joor or so the pistol range would echo with the results of Prowl's natural talent. All would soon know what happened when an advanced tactical computer and brilliant CPU focused on the more deadly arts.

Laserbeak was not at all shy about admitting that Prowl looked so very desirable right now, taking out every target he sighted, even if they weren't all perfect hits.

::Thank you.:: Prowl called as the last target faded, evaluating his own performance as he started to pack his weapon away, not sparing any attention for his audience. ::Are you coming with me, or are you required elsewhere?::

The pistol range and then some down time, most of which would be devoted to determining what he needed to work on the next time he had time to allot to the practice range. Being one of his stronger skills he was not able to devote as much time as he would have liked to working on that skill.

::I don't go on patrol for three joors,:: Laserbeak replied, chirring and flying down to land on Prowl's shoulder to nuzzle him.

::I'll take that as a yes.:: Prowl said, affection in his voice. He lightly rubbed the back of Laserbeak's mobile neck as he walked to the pistol range.


	11. A Telepath's Desires

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Sticky, Tactile, Spark  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 11: A Telepath's Desires<p>**

* * *

><p>Prowl finished reading the chapter of Cybertronian political history he'd begun over the evening energon and brushed his field against Soundwave's. It was the simplest and easiest way to gage his mate's mood. While there was an 88.4752% probability that Soundwave would desire to interface before they entered recharge, there had been orns where whatever had happened during his shift would destroy his normally amorous desires.<p>

Tonight ... Soundwave was beyond interested. Desire ran hot enough in the telepath's field that Prowl couldn't quite hide his surprise that they hadn't ended up in the berth the moment their energon was finished.

He set aside the datapad, rising slowing from his seat and flaring his sensor panels, deliberately trying to attract attention, offering. His time on the shooting range had not been as relaxing as it normally was, and if Soundwave was in that sort of mood Prowl would not object to trying to make sure they both recharged well.

It was an action that had Soundwave's full focus immediately and the larger mech's engine growled eagerly as he rose, reaching for Prowl. He drew the Praxian against his chassis, claiming a hungry, _needy_ kiss as he stroked Prowl's sides.

~Prowl: very hansom,~ Soundwave murmured between their minds.

Prowl relaxed against him, reaching up to run his fingers along Soundwave's ribs, submitting to the kiss and the desire willingly.

~Not as much as some,~ Prowl responded, making it clear that he was referring to Soundwave as he pressed against the larger mech.

The shiver of arousal, of intense pleasure that Prowl would think so washed over the Praxian as he was guided to the huge berth. ~Jazz: showed Prowl the pleasures of both spike and valve?~

Another wave of pleasure at the memories washed over Prowl, the feeling of how wonderful the fast, intense overloads that could be had from the mods felt and his desire to feel that again. He shared that desire freely, questioning if that was what Soundwave desired as well, while other more personal feelings associated with those memories were held close and private. ~He did.~

~Good,~ Soundwave purred, drawing Prowl into his lap as he sat on the berth. Large strong hands began to caress Prowl's sides with the intent to pleasure. Soundwave lowered his head to kiss down Prowl's jaw to lick and nibble at his throat. Strong tentacles slid from Soundwave's frame to stroke the full surfaces of Prowl's sensor wings. Even the telepath's EM field pulsed into Prowl, seeking to make the mech moan and quiver with arousal.

It was layer upon layer of pleasure to the Praxian, each touch sending a jolts of bliss into his system until it was all he could do to hold on to the larger mech, moaning as his systems struggled to keep up with rising temperatures. He was only partially aware of a smaller tentacle when it began to circle and stroke his valve cover. His frame responded without conscious decision on his part, pushing into the touch as Prowl whimpered, hands sliding blindly over the larger mech.

The small tentacle circled the valve's rim, then slipped inside, testing both the completeness of the seal's removal and the valve's readiness for interfacing.

The first rush of pleasure from his valve, ready and wanting, had Prowl crying out and arching against Soundwave. Every inch of the Praxians frame was charged and hyper sensitive to the touch drowning in thought stopping bliss.

His valve was no different as he pushed into the contact, searching for more. That desire was quickly answered when the tentacle slipped out and Soundwave lifted him, one large hand under his hips and the other bracing the center of his back, and slowly lowered Prowl onto a spike much thicker and longer than Jazz's. In the same moment the lubricant-slicked tentacle curled and rubbed against Prowl's front panel, asking for his spike.

Prowl keened, the still new pleasure of being filled so magnified and drawing what little attention his processor was able to focus on the exquisite stretch.

His field rippled and flared with waves of pleasure, bliss and want as the cover slid away and his spike pressurized into the grip of the slick tentacle. It spiraled around his spike, squeezed and rippled as it worked up and down, the tip teasing the slit in the tip.

~Prowl: so incredible in pleasure,~ Soundwave moaned silently, his entire frame trembled in ecstasy as his spike began to add physical pleasure to the intense bliss his telepathy feed him from his lover.

Audible moans escaped Prowl, words of any sort more than his processor could manage, overwhelmed by the intensity of what was being done to him as he enjoyed every second of it.

Golden optics managed to focus for a moment, Prowl reaching greedily for kiss, desiring a focus in the midst of the whirlwind of feeling he found himself in. A large mouth descended on his as Soundwave eagerly responded to the desire.

Slowly, every so slowly, Soundwave eased Prowl down until he was fully enveloped inside the smaller mech. Despite the intensity of the charge in both of them, Soundwave held them still, giving Prowl time to _feel_ the fullness his mate offered.

Prowl hid nothing from Soundwave, every pleasurable touch bleeding back through the connection between them at how amazing it felt, completely new experiences creating new memories to be savored and relived.

Breaking the kiss he nuzzled against Soundwave's chest, whimpering softly.

~Prowl: beautiful.~ Soundwave murmured before rolling his hips while holding Prowl relatively still. ~Prowl: so _tight_,~ he cried out silently as the nearly-virgin valve reluctantly let his spike pull out, and clamped down greedily as it pushed back in.

The Praxian grabbed blindly, keening as he was caught between his own pleasure and Soundwave's. He was barely cognizant of Soundwave's wordless pleading for his spark as the host unlocked his chest plates, offering, begging, both mechs well beyond words.

A moment of hesitation, but the pull of the spark so close to his own and the overwhelming desire of the mech holding him was too much. Prowl's chest plates opened in response. Even as his spark chamber spiraled open, his brilliant spark lunged forward, extending tendrils and its corona to mingle with the larger spark reaching for it.

It was the last thing either mech was aware of for long moments.

When Prowl cycled up, the last of his overload was still dancing along his frame, his valve was stretched around a thick spike and a tentacle was slowly pumping his spike. But instead of being upright, he was sprawled on his front on top of Soundwave.

~Prowl: amazing,~ Soundwave whispered, tendrils of awe and gratitude wrapped around the thought.

The backlog of data was too much for him to sort through in his current state, so Prowl simply stored it away for later, allowing his happiness at the fact that Soundwave was obviously pleased to be enough as the Praxain snuggled contentedly against the larger mech.


	12. Life's Interferences

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Jazz's next appointment ends up being during Prowl's overtime.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 12: Life's Interferences<p>**

* * *

><p>It was the most complicated assignment to have crossed Prowl's desk to date, and despite the twinges it was causing in his core programming to feel this way, Prowl was annoyed. Any other time and something this complex to work on would have pleased him, especially with the emphasis that they were expecting good work from him. Except that they were expecting quality work within a deadline that was keeping Prowl in his office.<p>

In his office and away from his appointment with Jazz. A twinge in his spark at missing his time with the small silver mech that so captivated him, causing feelings and desires that no one else did and Prowl still did no know how to classify. Except that he wanted to feel them again.

With a growl Prowl grabbed another datapad, setting it so that he could see it in conjunction with what he was seeing on his terminal and collating it all in his processor so his tactical and battle computers could process the data.

The buzz at his office door requesting entry came as something of a surprise. His subordinates knew it was a _bad_ orn to bother him and his superiors didn't bother with a buzzer.

Then his processor caught up with the ID attached to the request and nearly froze.

Jazz.

Jazz was on the other side of the door and asking in.

Prowl couldn't help but wonder what the mech was doing at his office even as transmitted the code that opened the door. He didn't want to protest, but as the silver mech entered and the door closed he frowned.

"I am sorry. But this-." He waved lifted his hand, drawing attention to the work laid out before him. "They won't wait."

"I know," Jazz smiled and sauntered over, draping himself on the far side of the desk with a supple grace no mech should possess. "That doesn't mean we can't spend the time together."

"True." Admiring optics traveled over that beautiful frame, Prowl having to forcefully turn his attention back to Jazz's face. As difficult as the mech's presence was going to make his work, there was no way he was going to send him away. And from another perspective it was incentive to get his work done.

He held out a hand, inviting Jazz over with the intent of indulging himself for a moment in hopes that he could then turn his attention mostly back to where it needed to be.

A heady rev of Jazz's engine answered even as the lithe mech slid over the desk to claim Prowl's mouth while he climbed into the mech's lap.

Prowl purred as their chassis molded together, glossa seeking to make clear just how much he wanted the mech in his arms, ignoring for the moment the nagging of his programming that there was work to be done, work far more vital than his own pleasure.

"Mmm, how about I suck you off while you work?" Jazz suggested with a rumble of desire.

"As tempting as that offer is, I do not think I would be able to work." Prowl sighed, truly regretful. Jazz was too beautiful, too... Prowl couldn't put into words entirely what the silver mech did to him.

A quick kiss was claimed before Jazz hummed again. "What may I do for you then?"

"Sit with me. Talk." Prowl nuzzled Jazz's helm affectionately. "I can divert enough processing power to enjoy a conversation as I work on this."

"Works for me," he purred and nuzzled Prowl's chest in return. "How has your decaorn gone?"

Prowl reached around, arms encircling Jazz as he spoke and continued to work. "Well. Interesting and educational, if nothing else. I have had much to do."

::I am very sure my office is monitored, so if we wish to speak of other things a comm line, or a hardline if you prefer, would be advisable.:: Prowl commented quietly with the comm request, all meant merely as a suggestion.

"Glad to hear it," Jazz purred, more than willing to relax on Prowl lap and chat about the inconsequential out loud and the important things in the relative private of an encrypted comm. ::I have no doubt they are. Your quarters certainly are as well. About the only places not under surveillance are Megatron's and Soundwave's quarters, Megatron's office and Soundwave's workshop.::

"Mine was profitable. A Towers mech went slumming, had me all polished up and went to one of their parties," Jazz continued, entirely too familiar with duel conversations. "I got most of a metacycle's worth of energon in my subspace out of that, plus his credits. He's a good client, if unreliable."

::I am not privy to the security measures of the base. My rank is not near high enough to warrant such information. But I would believe you to be right.::

Prowl concentrated on his work for a moment, focusing intently before relaxing again. "It sounds as though your time away from here was most profitable indeed. These parties are entertaining?"

Jazz shuddered lightly. "Anything but. The dancing is slow, the conversation all politics and veiled insults, the music _really_ slow. They're just one huge meet and greet and insult without getting caught. It's all see and be seen. But it's hard to beat the pay, how lax they are with tracking the energon and Lord Mirage is fun in the berth once you get him away from his kin. If he didn't pay so fraggin well I wouldn't go, but a mech's godda do what he has to. I get enough from him to pay for my rent and energon for almost a full vorn, for an orn and a half's work."

Prowl took a moment to nuzzle at the smaller mech, surprised to find how jealous he was of this lord that Jazz was referring, even though he knew Jazz's function. "True once again."

He worked again, both because he really did have to get this assignment done and because he did not wish to have their time cut short if someone were to try and accuse him of slacking. ::Did you manage to get that mech patched up?::

::No need to be jealous, lover,:: Jazz murmured. ::Even if I do think it's sweet in a dangerous way. He's just a job. There haven't been but a handful of mechs in my lifetime that I'd be with _without_ pay.::

::I-:: Prowl wasn't sure if he should apologize or not. It was not a feeling he was used to, and as he considered it more he wasn't even sure it was a right feeling. It was Jazz's life, his choices to make, and Prowl had no real hold over him. ::I'm sorry.::

::It's cool. Yes, he was willing to stay until one of the junior medics came,:: Jazz snuggled closer and nuzzled him. ::Thanks for letting me use your quarters like that. Fixit is the mech to comm if it comes up when I'm not around.::

::I shall keep that in mind. I trust he is discreet?:: The mech in question was not one that Prowl was familiar with, always having been seen to by Hook.

::Very discreet. I've been doing this since before you joined and he hasn't said anything he shouldn't yet,:: Jazz smiled and stole a quick kiss to Prowl's neck. "What are you working on?"

"Contingency plans, in case of specific kinds of attacks." Prowl replied, vague but detailed enough to be a real answer. The kiss to his neck sent a shiver through his frame, and he had to stop and refocus.

Something occurred to him as he focused. ::How long have you worked among ... us?::

::Before there was an 'us',:: Jazz said easily. ::Megatron knew and used me before any of my upgrades, back when I was still a class two and under contract.::

Surprise flickered through Prowl at the admission, though what triggered it he wasn't entirely sure. ::Is he what drew you here?::

::He was the one who convinced me to _try_ and buy myself, gave me tips on how to save the money,:: Jazz said seriously, respect deep in his voice. ::He was almost ready to buy his own contract when all Pit broke loose and made it a moot point. He's the reason I have such a nice contract with the Decepticons. He's one of the few I only charged what he could afford after I could set my own rates. I'm not really a Con, though. I'm useless on the battlefield.::

Prowl finished off a datapad, saving the information before shutting it down and nudging it aside to wrap his arms around Jazz and hold the small mech close. He contemplated quietly for a bit, sensor panels flicking a little as memories of his own battlefield training surfaced briefly at the mention. ::That does seem to be an important factor here.::

"How long are you going to be on base this time?"

::It is,:: Jazz murmured. ::Soundwave understands the uses of those who don't fight well. Megatron, not so much anymore.:: He nuzzled and squirmed to press even closer into the embrace. "Three orns."

Shoving his work aside again Prowl kissed the top of Jazz's helm, reaching out to wrap the mech in his field as well, reinforcing the fact that Jazz was worth something to him as he wrestled with traitorous thoughts that were daring to rise again. ::The interfacing ... It has been going on since the beginning?::

::Yes,:: Jazz lifted his helm to kiss Prowl softly. ::It's what I do, what I could contribute, and once there were credits he paid me well. Some of the intel you work with is from me too, though I doubt Megatron remembers I was one of his first and best spies.::

::Megatron...:: Prowl hesitated, not quite finishing that thought himself. Megatron seemed to remember things when it was convenient for him to do so anymore, much of his attention focused on winning the rebellion that he had set into motion with less thought of why he had incited it in the first place. And selfishly Prowl wanted to point out that perhaps it was not a bad thing that the leader did not think of Jazz so often any more.

::Does more as he pleases now.:: Prowl finally concluded, stealing another kiss from Jazz before he reached for his work one more. "If you are staying so long maybe I can arrange to see you again before you leave, when work does not interfere."

"Mmm, I'm sure. I have some recharge and free time in there I wouldn't mind spending in your berth, as long as you're there too," Jazz x-vented and relaxed against Prowl's chest. "It's kinda nice to have an appointment that isn't all interfacing. Most Cons aren't much for conversation or anything but getting off. It's the one thing I miss about my old client list."

"I would certainly intend to be. Some of your old clients merely desired social contact?" Prowl asked, curious as he started to work on the next section of his assignment, realizing that somewhere along the way he had reached the half way mark.

While he was going to have to go back and thoroughly check all of his works twice since he was not devoting his entire processor to it, Prowl suddenly wondered if he could make a case that he worked faster with the small minibot in is lap.

The idea was immediately excused as highly improbably, but it was a tempting little thought that was going to nibble at his processor anyway.

"It's a bit part of the draw, what made upgrading to a class five worth all the credits and effort," Jazz nodded. "Lesser nobles, ranking military officers and even the occasional young Senator are the folks that hire a class five," he explained. "They want a good overload or six, but that is secondary. A class five gets paid so much because we're educated, keep up on current events, have quality construction and can hold our own in the VIP filled social events those folks go to. We're expected to look good on their arm, speak and conduct ourselves to make them look good and generally fit in with that group as a trophy lover."

Prowl turned his head just enough to land a kiss on a sensor horn. "You were certainly a prize for them then."

"Mm, thank you," Jazz purred and snuggled closer. "Does it bother you, my function?"

"Does it bother you that my function makes me stiff, formal, and devoid of all emotion or humor?" Prowl responded, his tone light as he considered the real answer to the question that Jazz had asked him.

Jazz snickered at the description. "That mech is annoying, but breaking his facade is great fun."

A small smile from Prowl. ::For you and few others.:: Then serious as he wrapped as he looked at the silver mech in his arms.:: It bothers me because I do not wish to share you. I was jealous earlier that the noble had his time with you and my work had trapped me in my office. But to ask you to be what you are not when I have no power or hold over you would mean nothing. It would also be against so much that I am working for, making me no better than those I turned against.::

::It would make you _normal_, a mech,:: Jazz countered gently. ::It's _why_ pleasurebots are programmed with carefully muted and limited emotional protocols. To fall in love, to be with someone outside our caste when it's not business is to invite exactly what is happening,:: he murmured sadly. ::It never ends well for the pleasurebot.::

::And what is happening?:: Prowl asked, not missing the sadness and spark constricting at the thought that this might be coming to an end.

Jazz stretched up and claimed Prowl's mouth, indulging in the kiss fully even as he spoke over the comm. ::You're jealous that I interface with others. How long before that occasional displeasure turns to frustration, or hatred? Maybe you weren't raised to believe in exclusive, but what I do goes well beyond having a second lover or the occasional dalliance.::

Prowl couldn't help but moan into the kiss, though there was a bitter edge of pain to the sound as well. As much as he wanted to he could not deny the logic behind what Jazz was saying, his battle computer feeding him the numbers.

And while it informed him that there was a much higher chance he would kill for the mech than he would harm the mech in his arms, that chance that he could harm Jazz was enough to scare Prowl. His arms fell away, freeing Jazz.

::It's not just the interfacing.:: He admitted quietly. ::It's everything about you.::

::I'd give it all to you if I could,:: Jazz trembled with the admission, terror sending frozen coolant through his lines. ::I would,:: he whispered. ::I'd find a new function to please you, if I could.::

Prowl couldn't help himself as he pulled Jazz close again, his wings trembling in shared distress though his frame remained solid. His field spread out- longing, distress, desire, love, sorrow- Prowl stiffened at the range of his own emotions.

They interfered with his processor so that he could not find a way out of the mess they were in.

::Jazz...:: He kissed the mech, wishing he could just forget.

::I'm sorry,:: Jazz shivered and pressed into the kiss and the contact. His field reached out, tangled with Prowl's and sought to calm the larger mech. ::I shouldn't have said it,:: he stroked his glossa along Prowl's lip plates, begging for entrance, for forgiveness. His hands reached out to stroke the beautifully elegant sensor wings in an effort to arouse and distract. ::I'm sorry.::

The distraction was wanted, accepted, Prowl's lips parting in welcome. ::Don't be.:: He would rather have the truth any day than find the lie later, would rather face the pain head on then suffer an energon blade to the back.

Both mechs focused on the physical, their mouths and hands expressing the mutual, desperate need to not think. It wasn't long before Jazz's mouth found Prowl's neck and his hands rubbed against Prowl's new interface panel.

Prowl had no desire to protest, not caring where he was or who might be watching. He tilted his head, giving Jazz complete access to his neck as his panels slid away to whatever the mech wanted to do there. He moaned as skilled fingers encouraged his spike to extend and pressurize, stroking it to full hardness.

"Take me, please," Jazz moaned against Prowl's throat. "Make me _yours_."

Prowl growled at the request, lifting Jazz as he stood to lay the smaller mech over his desk, capturing Jazz's lips with his own, glossa invading to lay claim to his lover. Prowl's hand traveled down the silver mechs frame, searching for Jazz's valve to see if it mirrored the state of need that he was getting off the mech. Between spread silver legs it was open, slick and twitching against the fingertip that circled, then pressed inside.

"Yes!" Jazz keened, thrusting his hips into the touch with abandon.

Prowl shuddered, loving the wild abandon of the small mech, as he thrust his fingers in, searching for that spot that would make Jazz scream before he gave in and gave them both what they wanted. Groups of sensor nodes pressed against his fingers as Jazz's valve clenched tightly around them, rubbed against them as the sleek silver minibot rolled his hips and spread his legs wider, silently begging for more.

With a twisting of Prowl's fingers, pressing a little deeper and Jazz's entire chassis crackled with excess energy as he writhed shamelessly, inviting Prowl to enjoy the spectacle and his incoherent cries of pleasure.

It was a struggle to hold himself together, dragging his fingers over the sensors as he withdrew his fingers and leaned over the smaller mech, shivering from the transfer of energy he lined his spike up with that valve, tip just touching. "You want me?"

"Yes," Jazz keened as he wrapped his legs around Prowl's hips. "Please. Prowl!" He begged shamelessly, knowing full well that anyone in the corridor would hear him pleading with the tactician. "Want you more than anything," he moaned, much more quietly and painfully aware of how true it was. It wasn't the platitudes of his profession; he was speaking his spark.

It was too much for Prowl and he slid slowly in, hands bracing on the desk as he kissed Jazz again, EM field flaring into the other mech with matching want and desire. Jazz replied in kind, his field and frame wrapping around Prowl with desperate abandon to the desires of their frames.

Prowl began a tortuously slow slide in an out of Jazz's valve, every motion zapping a charge from one to the other. Neither were entirely aware of when or how Jazz's wrists got under Prowl's hands, but the effect the moment the larger mech's weight came down on them, pinning Jazz down in a very solid way, was electric.

_That_ was the touch that made Jazz scream.

Prowl froze at the sound, trembling. "Jazz?"

"Primus, don't stop!" Jazz begged, his voice thick with static as he rocked his hips in an effort to get Prowl to continue. Jazz's field latched onto Prowl's aggressively, the raw intensity of the arousal conveyed the only way the minibot knew how.

This was his ultimate kink; pinned and taken hard.

Prowl cried out himself, pulling out and thrusting in harder than before, driven by the desire pulling at him but still not entirely confident, deep refusal to hurt the mech beneath him ingrained at a spark deep level. He could feel that what he was doing was more than enough for Jazz, both in the reactions of the lithe frame under his and in the intensely of the field meshed with his own.

It was incredible, the sensation of setting off such a deeply felt kink in his lover. The overload that hit Jazz was hot, fast and blindingly hard even across the field in Prowl's systems. It hit hard enough that Prowl overloaded as well, managing several hard thrusts before his frame stiffened, Jazz's name ripped from in a static laced cry of bliss.

Limbs trembling, it was all he could do to not completely fall on the off-line mech underneath him. Prowl smiled, leaving a gentle kiss on silver mech's helm as he pulled himself together, savoring the small waves of energy still flowing through him.

A moment's concentration and Prowl found the coordination to pull out and gather Jazz into his arms, falling back in his chair with the small mech against his chest, content and exhausted. The room was thick with ozone, the scent of valve lubricant and transfluid. It was a moment where Prowl was grateful his subordinates were largely afraid of him ... or at the very least only interacted with him when required.

He was still drawing deep draughts of air into his systems and pushing it out fast in an effort to cool down when Jazz began to cycle up.

Prowl shifted the mech against him, freeing an arm to stroke Jazz's back as his lover came back to the present. "So beautiful." He murmured, nuzzling at Jazz.

"Amazing," Jazz managed to get out though the static as he very willingly rested in Prowl's embrace. "You're amazing, Prowl."

Prowl shook his head, the same arguments rising that always did when Jazz complimented him so. Instead he continued to run a hand over Jazz's back, palm flat alternating with fingers lightly tracing seams in the armor.

Utter contentment with the here and now spread through his field and into the mech in his arms. Peacefully, blissfully content with Jazz against him. The brush of his lips over a sensor horn. "Nothing so amazing as you."

Jazz hummed happily and willingly settled in for a quiet work time.

Prowl was half way into the next datapad when the door slid open for Ravage.

The Praxian's head snapped up, prepared to share his irritation at being interrupted without a warning until he realized who had come. Instead he saved his work quickly and actually smiled a little at the sight of the symbiot, relaxing back with Jazz on his lap.

"Ravage. What can I do for you?"

"Laserbeak's reported that Black Echo is looking for Jazz," she said evenly, her annoyance clear.

Jazz went instantly tense at the Autobot TIC's designation, displeasure and dread radiating from him before he locked it down.

Prowl wrapped an arm around Jazz, holding the smaller mech close to his chassis. ::Jazz?::

::He's as violent as they get when he goes looking for me,:: he explained even as he reluctantly disentangled himself from his lover. ::Means something went _bad_.::

Prowl let him go, clearly just as reluctant as he stood, claiming a kiss from the smaller mech before stepping back. ::Be careful. Come back. Please.::

::Don't worry,:: Jazz smiled at him. ::He chooses me because I _survive_. Their CMO Ratchet is better than Hook too, but don't tell the mech that,:: his tone turned teasing before looking at Ravage. "Usual spot?"

"Yes," the feline nodded, watching Jazz walk out and waiting for the door to close. "He told you why he still takes Autobot clients?" she focused on Prowl.

Prowl nodded. "Information."

She nodded and relaxed a bit. "He's a very good social spy for us. He's saved me from some very dangerous missions. He can walk into a lot of bases and just get the layout."

Prowl settled back in his chair, picking up the datapad that he had been working on before Ravage's arrival. "So that is where most of those layouts come from. I did wonder how we managed to get them in such detail."

"Yes, that's Jazz's work," she nodded. "Don't worry. No matter how rough that Autobot is, Ratchet fixes Jazz up as good as new."

"Fixes him good as new'." Prowl repeated softly. "So they allow that too..."

She cocked her head, then nodded. "Yes, they allow consensual violence. What they don't allow is taking an unwilling mech."

"Consensual?" Prowl started again, then stopped and vented in defeat. "Are you needed elsewhere?"

"Jazz may not enjoy the damage, but he agrees to it fully informed," she told him. "Needed, no. I can stay for a few joor if you'd like the company," she offered, uncertain.

"The company would be very much appreciated, if you are willing to stay." Prowl held out a hand, seeking comfort.

"Always," she rumbled and walked over to lean against his leg and press into the offered touch. "Want to talk, or just have company?"

"Company, I think. So that I can finish this. And then maybe some downtime." Prowl answered, running a hand along her back before returning to work, determined to distract himself from what his lover was facing.


	13. The Other Side

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Black Echo, Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, BDSM  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Jazz's next appointment ends up being during Prowl's overtime.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 13: The Other Side<p>**

* * *

><p>"For Primus sake, former function or no he's one of ours now. I can make it look like he's just been drug through Pit without you actually subjecting him to the experience!" The medic continued to grumble as he worked on the unconscious pleasurebot, his words having no visible impact on the mech overseeing the operation in the SpecOps medbay.<p>

"He accepts it as necessary. I do nothing the rules do not allow." Black Echo, third in command and head of Special Operations displayed not a hint of remorse for the state of the mech Ratchet was currently repairing. "Besides, it makes it all the more convincing if they have figured out a way to watch us as closely as we are watching them, or if Soundwave goes looking. If you could have him running by the time Prime arrives it would be convenient though. There has not been an opportune time to brief him in this sort of setting since he went under."

The medic's grumbling dropped to an inaudible level as he continued to work, still not pleased at the idea but keeping his opinion mostly to himself for the moment. His words would mean little to the TIC, but if he came across much worse than what was on his table at the moment there might be words mentioned to the Prime on the side.

"There." He slid a panel into place. "That was the last critical bit. Give him a couple of kliks to boot and get his memory files in order so you get coherent answers. And I am _not_ done with him yet- he's just functional for questioning."

"Understood," Black Echo inclined his helm before stepping in to stand squarely in the visored gaze of one of his best agents when it powered up.

True to form, Jazz booted in survival order; combat protocols, sensors, weapons, processor _then_ memory and higher functions.

"Hey boss," Jazz grinned up at the mech that had nearly killed him in berth games.

Black Echo graced Ratchet with 'see, what did I tell you' smirk before diving straight into business. "Get yourself working. Prime's got a miracle break in his schedule and wants an update on how the assignment's going."

His look said 'standard answers', no matter what the Prime asked. There were something things it was better that only those directly involved needed to know, and the Prime and chief medic were far enough removed they failed the need-to-know test.

"Gotcha," Jazz nodded slightly. "I'm good to see the mech, as long as he doesn't mind me laying down," he cast a wary look at Ratchet. "See, I do learn."

"Not fast enough." Ratchet rumbled, clearly irritated without a focus he could take it out on at the moment. "If everyone is ready?"

Not that he really waited for an answer as he allowed the private bay door to open, admitting Sentinel Prime and sliding shut as soon as the towering mech was completely in the room.

"Good to see you still functioning, Prime," Jazz greeted the political and spiritual leader of the Cybertronian empire with his habitual cheekiness.

A hint of amusement, quickly lost in the seriousness of the coming subject matter and the crunch of time. "And you, though I would expect nothing less of someone who has recently spent time in Ratchet's care."

The CMO grumbled but accepted the complement.

Jazz went suddenly serious, reminding everyone that he was the Autobot's Meister, their ghost maker. "Short report: it's going better than expected. I've IDed their advantage and he's becoming quite attached to Jazz. I should have him ready to defect within the vorn."

"That soon..." Prime mused to himself, thinking more than directing it at anyone else. "Convenient. Complications?"

"He's dating Soundwave," Jazz shrugged slightly. "As he puts it, he loves Soundwave, he's in love with Jazz. If I play it right, we'll get the 'path too."

Black Echo glared at his agent. That was more than he wanted Prime to know.

Especially since it caught the Prime's attention. "That would be advantageous for us, and a severe blow to their forces." He looked at Black Echo. "What are the chances of that happening?"

"Normally I'd say nil," he glared at Jazz. "But with _this_ one," he made a motion towards the silver minibot, "he might pull it off if it doesn't get his processor slagged by a jealous lover first."

"If he can get both of them to come over willingly it could turn this conflict in our favor. The potential for this should be brought to tactical's attention soon. As well as the possibility of an overhaul in tactical if this mech should come over." He contemplated another thought, one that obviously did not please him. "I assume that alternative plans have been considered if something does not go well?"

"Of course," Black Echo responded. "We always plan for the worst. Prime- I strongly recommend against saying anything to anyone until the defection is complete and they're safely in Iacon."

"Yeah, even a _rumor_ of a defection can get a mech extinguished," Jazz spoke up, looking more distressed than he should. "Maybe not Soundwave, but their tactician is vulnerable."

The large mech hummed quietly as he considered this and nodded. "As you think. Getting him on our side is most important."

Jazz relaxed fractionally. "I'm doing my best, Prime."

"I would expect nothing less." Prime replied, though his tone made it clear that he meant that as a compliment of Jazz's skill and a indication of how valued Jazz's efforts were. "Is there anything else I need to be aware of?"

"Everything else is in Black Echo's report," Jazz assured him. "Just try not to target my tactician before I can turn him, okay? The more he's personally afraid of you mechs, the less likely he'll believe me when I tell him he'll be safe here."

Prime looked at him, considering for a moment, but didn't comment as he looked at Black Echo instead. "I can expect this report at the regular briefing?"

"As much as the general officers can get," he nodded. "You'll get the rest in my report to you."

The large mech nodded. "What else should I be aware of?"

"Just because this is going very well doesn't mean we'll make the vorn Jazz is so hopeful of," Black Echo said with a glare for his agent that was completely ignored.

* * *

><p>Prowl powered up slowly, his sensors identifying his current location before his optics booted up and drawing a soft moan from the mech. He had hoped he was mostly over coming back online like this- in the med bay and still stiff and sore from recent repairs.<p>

With a soft sigh he finished coming online and looking around, momentarily ignoring the messages hovering on the edge of his vision. Hook was usually very good at informing him of anything urgent the moment he came around, even if it was delivered with a series of insults layered in sarcasm.

This time the mech was watching him, but his expression was more concerned than irate.

"If you can follow Screamer's example and grovel even when it's not your fault he won't do as much damage," the big Constructicon told him.

The Praxian made a face as memory matched up with his current location and the reason for his current location.

He wanted to protest, to argue, to say something. Instead he inclined his head, wincing at the stiffness in his neck cables. "You are most likely correct. Potential damage would possibly be at least minimized."

"Just be grateful he's not inclined to 'face you," the mech x-vented deeply. "He still basically values you for your tactical use. Any errors you shouldn't have?"

That suggestion was enough to send a shudder of terror through Prowl, and he quickly distracted himself with answering Hook's question. "Just a warning that I need to refuel and that my energy levels are low. Normal?"

"Normal," he nodded and handed Prowl a cube of energon. "Now would you please _think_ to your lover that you're fine? Mech's been pacing for joors while I put you back together."

Prowl froze, his immediate thought being that Jazz had returned until his processor recalled that it was Hook speaking to him. A moment and he had found that almost permanent place that always felt like Soundwave anymore and sent a wave of reassurance across it.

Stiff and sore he might be, but he was fine.

"I can turn you loose to his care, or you can stay here, but stay out of Megatron's awareness for a few orns if you can," Hook seemed to relax.

"I will do my best to stay out of sight and thought." Prowl promised quietly, wishing to be out of the workroom and somewhere safe and familiar. Most likely summoned by the thought, Soundwave entered the room, all of his symbiots docked to give him more visible mass.

"Prowl: able to walk to Soundwave and Prowl's quarters?"

"Able to walk fine, and ready to go." Prowl answered, standing quickly and perhaps a little too eagerly as he swayed, equilibrium not quite back in place yet. Soundwave's large hand steadied him even as he remembered _why_ his equilibrium was off. Megatron has torn one sensor wing completely off and crushed the other one. Yes, he definitely needed a few orns of relative quiet.

"Prowl: will be safe," Soundwave said with a flicker of anger-determination in his field as he guided Prowl from the medbay.

It wasn't lost on Prowl that not a single mech looked at him on the entire trek.

The fact disturbed Prowl, adding to his unease and distress that continued to rise during the trip back to Soundwaves quarters, not easing until the door shut them in the safety of the place Prowl was starting to consider a sanctuary.

He reached out to Soundwave cautiously and was quickly pulled into a careful, comforting and protective embrace. The gaps in his memory, some of them spans of pure pain, adding to his distress. "What happened?"

"Megatron: angry at failure of the assault. Prowl: blamed. Prowl: argued fault belonged with those who broke from Prowl's plan. Megatron: beat Prowl for insubordination. Soundwave: could not stop Megatron. Soundwave: tried."

Prowl flinched. "You shouldn't have." He murmured quietly. "I should know better than to argue with him. I have seen the consequences often enough, and should not have been so foolish as to think myself immune to the same punishment."

"Prowl: worth the effort." Soundwave insisted as he gently guided Prowl to the soft berth. When he had Prowl settled and was going to lie with him, he stiffened. "Megatron: demands Soundwave's presence. Ravage: will remain with Prowl." He said as the largest symbiot un-docked from the center of Soundwave's chest and transformed. "Soundwave: will return as soon as possible."

"Is he still angry?" Prowl asked quietly, fighting off the growing need to recharge.

"Megatron: calm," Soundwave said as he kissed Prowl's forehelm. "Megatron: unaware of Soundwave's efforts to control Megatron. Soundwave: in no danger."

"Careful." Prowl requested as he relaxed into recharge. Even though Soundwave had been dealing with Megatron far longer than Prowl, it was Prowl who has very recently suffered their leader's wrath. A lesson he was not going to forget soon.


	14. Pleasure of a Different Kind

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Starwing  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/femme  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Het, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 14: Pleasure of a Different Kind<p>**

* * *

><p>Prowl's sensor wings twitched in excitement. He'd been held a joor late in his office, which meant that Jazz should be waiting and ready in his quarters.<p>

Forcing himself to regain control, Prowl merely hurried a little faster through the halls, spark already singing. This time he would have his full time with Jazz, where he could let go and enjoy himself, experiencing and giving pleasure until they were tired enough to recharge and he could rest peacefully, the smaller mech recharging in his arms so perfectly.

There was no hesitation when he reached his quarters- they were his and no one should be in there save those he had invited and the list of those with a standing invitation was few. Sweeping inside he barely checked to make sure the door was closing before looking up, frame and greeting freezing in a nanosecond.

"Who are you?" he demanded of the slender flight frame of gleaming black with silver highlights and golden optics sprawled invitingly on his berth. He was already pinging the system for information.

"Starwing," a feminine voice purred as she slid from the berth and strode to him, stopping just outside easy striking range. "I'm your pleasurebot for the evening," she explained smoothly, extending a delicately fingered hand that he knew was still going to be at least as strong as his own because of her frametype.

At this range he had a _good_ look at her, at her frame language, even a taste of her EM field. Every hint of it screamed 'ready to interface' and the database confirmed her statements and that she held the same class five status as Jazz. He continued to study her, no longer doubting who she said she was or her intentions, but trying to determine his own. If his own field had been anything but held close and tight the distress and confusion rippling through him would have been clearly evident.

It was Jazz was who supposed to have been waiting here for him. Jazz he was looking forward to spending his entire recharge cycle and then some with. Not this stranger, as optic catching as she was, that stood before him now. It was ... Soundwave made his appointments for him.

But Soundwave had said nothing to Prowl about not wishing him to spend time with Jazz.

Jazz had been called away ... maybe he had not yet returned?

Prowl latched on to that answer, insisting his processor accept it despite the fear and doubt that ran far deeper than what thought could soothe away.

Finally he focused his attention on the femme. "I am sorry for keeping you waiting. I was expecting someone else."

"I know," she smiled in understanding before stepping forward to caress his chest plates and extended her field to caress him, encouraging him to relax. "I hold the same rank as Jazz, as I'm sure you know from the database. Would you like some high grade?" She asked, purring her shoulder turbines.

He did know, and as tempting as the offer was he knew that high grade was a bad idea. Some of his tension drained away at the touch, though his emotions were still held close and tightly in check. "I think not this cycle."

Warm, soft lips brushed against his as she pressed forward, bringing their chassis together. Her hands moved from his chest to his sensor wings, her touch far more sure and knowledgeable than Jazz's.

Almost reluctantly Prowl allowed more of the tension to fade, the hands on his sensor panels wonderfully distracting, and he finally contemplated allowing himself to enjoy his evening.

Soundwave apparently approved and Jazz would forgive him.

Or so he hoped as he pressed into the kiss, wondering if it would be anything like either of his lovers. Her touch was enticing, her field encouraging and her manner far more dominant than even Soundwave. Everything he felt from her told him to relax and comply to enjoy himself.

As she brushed her glossa along his lips her touch on his sensor wings shifted, pulling him forward towards the berth. It was dominating enough that Prowl's need to be control faded as well, and he followed along, if not fully participating at least not resisting.

Her shoulder turbines revved again as she drew him down to sit on the berth and her hands went back to building his charge. "You are a very lovely Praxian," she murmured before kissing him again, gently encouraging him to rest against her chassis so he could overload sitting up.

Prowl hummed into the compliment, having accepted that many seemed to find his frame very attractive and finally accepting it as at least true in the optics of others.

He gave into the gentle urging, enjoying the hands on his frame. This...this he would allow himself to enjoy, pleasure for the sake of pleasure, he hoped. She'd been honest with him so far, her function implying honesty in her intentions to pleasure his frame and little more.

Soft lips trailed down his jaw to his neck and slender, delicate fingers began to stroke the complex joints to a sensor wing while the other hand splayed out to stimulate as many sensors as possible.

The skilled touch on his wings was shooting his charge higher, more effective than any touch he had ever felt on his wings and surely the result of Starwing being intimately familiar with what worked.

He splayed his wings fully, pushing them into her touch as he recalled his first lesson with Jazz and let go, following where she was leading. A low moan rumbled up from his chest as she played his arousal and wing-sensors with intent for slow arousal and a sweet release.

It was a wonderful slow climb as Prowl's hands started to wander over the femme's frame, gentle and searching for something to do as the first flickers of charge started to show on his frame. She trilled in pleasure, encouraging him in both his arousal and his touching.

"Yesss," a soft moan whispered in Prowl's audio when a wandering hand caressed her upper codpiece.

Prowl smiled, tracing the area with his fingers before pressing his palm against it, teasing in a motion that had been used most effectively on him in the past. Another moan and both panels snapped open, allowing her spike, larger than Prowl's own, to begin to extend against his palm.

At no point did her attention falter on his wings, however.

The mech rumbled appreciatively, fingers ghosting along her spike to tease as it began to pressurize. He tilted his head. "On my neck was wonderful."

Lips and glossa immediately returned to the offered cables, kissing, stroking and nibbling lightly while her hands continued to work his wings. Her unrestrained moans added vibration to her touch, much as her growing charge added to his own.

"Good. Very good." Prowl praised, pressing his frame against hers as the charge began to flicker between them. Then her wings pressed forward and she guided his a little more forward, and suddenly he felt her charge and then some zap directly into the sensor nodes across the entire surface of both wings from hers.

For a moment Prowl's frame locked up, overwhelmed by the sudden charge across his wings and what it did to him. He vented sharply, optics snapped to full brightness. "That was..."

"Just the beginning," she promised with a shiver of arousal and another play of energy between their wings, this one beginning at the tips with a bare tingle and ending near the joints with a strong crackle.

He had no idea how she was doing and determined that he was going to figure it out later, but for now he just wanted to feel what she was doing. "What should I do?"

"Enjoy," she shivered in her own arousal. "It's as good for me as for you." She moaned against his throat as another ripple of energy passed between their wings. "Keep stroking me if you want. Feels really good too."

Enjoy...Prowl could do that. Easily, with the charge dancing along his wings and frame and the skillful mouth on his throat. If his pleasure pleased her, giving in return, even what little she would allow, pleased him.

His fingers worked along her spike, smooth pressure along the length, wanting to pull the same kinds of sounds from her that she was bringing from him. It didn't take much, she was willing with her voice, and soon he felt energy crackle from her spike into his palm and fingers.

One more wave of energy into his sensor wings and thought was no longer an option. Bliss was the only thing he was aware of. His bliss and the cries of the femme against him.

This overload drew on, pleasure upon pleasure until he collapsed against the femme, frame going completely relaxed as the energy died away to the occasional mild reminder of he had just enjoyed.

"That was very pleasant." He said, smiling when he managed to get his vocalizer working again.

"Good," she purred, stroking his back. Her warm frame telling Prowl that she'd shared in overloading, but her coding and systems finely tuned to handle the rush and crash. His hand was dry however, and the spike within his fingers was still full and hard.

"Good." He agreed, then squeezed lightly. "I would think that something needs to be done about this though."

"Mmm," she shifted to kiss him, gradually deepening it until he was panting when she finally pulled away. "I would enjoy that," she leaned in to nibble on his neck. "May I feel your valve around it?"

"A nice solution." Prowl agreed, valve cover sliding away, moaning at the attention on his neck.

Starwing purred, revving her turbines as she judged him, soon fairly confident he was submissive by nature, at least in the berth. With the thoughtless care for his wings only those created with them had, she rolled to lay him on his back. With a kiss to his mouth before returning to his neck, she pressed into his slick valve, stretching it almost as much as Soundwave's spike did.

Prowl moaned, helm falling back as he savored the stretch in his valve, clamping down to increase the contact as she pressed all the way in, only stopping when their arrays clanked together. He felt the tip of her spike stretch the top of his valve, sending the most delicious shivers into his internals.

"So tight," Starwing moaned, rocking her hips to move just a little bit, testing out his response to the teasing.

The teasing earned her a moan and a rise of his hips, encouraging and eager. He liked this feel, the physical sensation of being filled and pushed to the limit as he grabbed on to the berth, using it as an anchor. She responded immediately, eagerly, pulling almost all the way out before driving in a little harder than before.

"Yes." Prowl whimpered, hips rolling up to meet the thrust. "More. Please." He could enjoy this, would enjoy this, optics dimming as he focused on the pleasure radiating through his entire frame as she picked up the pace, thrusting deep and hard with a steady rhythm.

Her moans grew in volume as his did, their hips working in concert to draw their pleasure out and spiral it higher with each thrust. For the second time that evening energy began to spark between the two frames, drawing small cries from Prowl each time a surge connected with his already sensitive frame.

His valve tightened around her spike, drawing even more current between them as she moaned and arched her wings, instinctively making a display of herself as her pleasure crested. Only core coding held her back, but it couldn't stop her thrusts from becoming almost desperate.

The mech beneath her was not so far gone that he failed to notice and remember. His field rippled out, promising release for them both. "Neck." He prompted quietly, so very close to the charge crackling across his frame reaching a critical level.

Starwing complied immediately, laving the cables with her glossa before nipping on a major one and running her denta down the length.

The last bit of attention was the trick, static cry of bliss torn from Prowl as energy exploded across his plating. He held onto just enough awareness to feel her overload only nanokliks after him. To feel her hot transfluid splash against the top of his valve as electricity jumped from the lining to her spike and back.

Between keens and moans, Starwing continued to lavish attention on his neck and throat. The angle of her hips changed, but the thrusts only slowed to a more languid pace.

Prowl moaned, first in contentment as his systems worked to bleed off the rest of his second overload, then in pleasure as his processor caught up with the continual slide of Starwing's spike in his valve.

Golden optics remained dim as he hummed, the attention on his neck pleasant, and after a moment he reached up to run a hand over one of her wings, gliding across the smooth expanse. The moaning against his neck intensified as the wing pressed into the touch and her field reached into him to share the pleasure of his touch.

Pleased and not over distracted at the moment, Prowl devoted a part of his processor to the sharing, using it to find the areas that were most sensitive, the touches that brought her the most pleasure, testing each thoroughly before moving on to another. She trilled and arched, pressing into the touches eagerly.

"A fantasy, Prowl?" she asked.

He looked at her blankly, trying to think of anything that didn't involve Jazz.

"You don't have to say it," she trilled softly, offering a data cable. "Just let me in."

Prowl vented softly but allowed her access without hesitation, allowing memories of his other lovers to rise to the surface, what had felt good and what he had enjoyed doing to them.

It was two almost distinct sets.

Soundwave, considerate but dominating, gentle but firm. Possessive, protective, and processor blowing when all he focused on was overloading the Praxian. Perfectly balancing ends of an equation.

Jazz...was Jazz. Somehow the mech just seemed to pull a willingness to try anything and everything new out of Prowl. Submissive but guiding, affectionate and...Prowl gave up trying to categorize what the silver mech was to him and what he did to him.

~Would you like him?~ she offered without hesitation, implying it was possible right then.

~You have been most pleasant company but...~ For Prowl it was more than just the physical pleasure. It was the emotional attachment that came with his lovers that he was truly looking for when he was with them. ~I'm sorry.~

~Don't be,~ she smiled and kissed him gently as she began to weave into his processors, focusing on sensory input and memory. Vision shifted first, her elegant Vosian frame melting into the silver minibot's.

Prowl shivered, startled until he got himself under control since this had not been what he was expecting. He blanked for a moment before coming back to focus on what had been her.

~Relax,~ Jazz's processor-voice caressed him as the rest of the physical clues fell into place to be a very convincing illusion of the other pleasurebot sinking onto his spike. He knew it was an illusion and that she allowed, or perhaps ensured that he was aware of that, at least in the background tags of the memory that was forming. Otherwise, it was flawless and he felt his chassis respond to _Jazz_.

A moan escaped him, hips moving up into the slick pressure of the valve around his spike, accepting the truth. This was not his lover, but for the moment he could pretend it was. His acceptance was rewarded with a lingering kiss and knowing hands on his sensor wings. Every movement, sight and sound intended to arouse him, to bring to mind the intensity he felt for Jazz.

"So beautiful," Jazz murmured against his mouth before claiming another kiss.

A whimper escaped Prowl, glossa gliding along the lips against his own, asking and being granted access. Sensor wings pressed into the touch as much as possible as the illusion wove into a version of reality.

Across the hardline he'd all but forgotten about a pulse of energy exploded into his systems, triggering pleasure he had no name for yet but causing his entire frame to react. Hips arched off the berth, driving into the mech seated on his spike as the surge pulled a cry of surprise and pleasure from him.

Above him Jazz moaned and squeezed down around Prowl's spike, then moved his attention to Prowl's neck, kissing, then nibbling the sensitive cables. "Yessss," he moaned, shuddering in pleasure as Prowl's hands found his hips and held on, guiding the silver mech into thrusts that were becoming more forceful with every pulse across the hardline.

Past words Prowl could only moan in pleasure as he tilted his head, exposing as much of his neck as possible, memories of exactly the pleasure that Jazz could cause with so much access very close to the surface. He wasn't sure what set of his overload a moment later; his spike, wings or neck, only that the pleasure he had no words for exploded across his systems in a cascade of bliss.

Right on the tail of the first sure of his overload Prowl felt Jazz's rush into him from the hardline, forming an all-encompassing crackle of energy and desire expressed in it's most pure form.

Sensory and input systems pushed hard, energy over his frame and through the hardline, Prowl keened long and hard before collapsing back on the berth, spent. The soft humming of high-performance systems warm next to him and the size differential between the hand stroking his chest plates and Jazz's was his first and best clue that the illusion had been dropped.

"You are incredible when you let go," Starwing's voice was gentle and approving next to his audio.

Prowl hummed softly, forcing himself to accept reality again, despite how badly his spark wanted it to be Jazz sprawled over him and not the pleasurebot against his side. Still, it was a sincere compliment, and she deserved a response.

"Thank you."

"Mmm, were you always a tactician?" she asked, her fingers still playing along his chest seam.

Prowl relaxed on the berth, surprised at the fact that she was asking questions more than at the question content. "No. My original programming was for city planning, functional low level. Mainly design and engineering for population management."

"At least it's related," she said with a thoughtful hum. "Was your battle commuter original, or one of Hooks upgrades?"

"Hook." Prowl shook his head. "My original programmers would never have allowed something like that to be installed, not for my intended purpose."

"He does amazing work, even if his berthside manner is terrible," she chuckled softly. "What convinced you to join the rebellion? City planner seems like a pretty cushy function."

A physical and mental flinch at things the Praxian wished he could forget most orns. "Low level." He repeated by way of explanation. Quality materials, quality programming, and orders that went against the very directives of his spark.

Starwing cocked her head and cooed soothingly, a vibration that made his wings relax without him thinking about it. "A spark too good for your own good," she murmured and nuzzled him gently. "I thought Praxus was pretty much one of the best cities for low corruption."

"Things change." Prowl replied softly, regretfully. "Things change. I serve, and so I function."

The mantra that had gotten him through all those vorns, even when the nature of the service had brought him personal pain. Megatron had promised him something more, a service worthy of his skill and ability, and one that would fulfill the desires of his spark as well.

Promises, and deep in Prowl the fear that those promises were empty was festering and fed by what he saw every orn.

"Surely there is more to your existence than to serve," she sounded ... bothered by it.

Prowl vented softly, considering and much less troubled than she seemed to be. With Soundwave and the symbiots, with Jazz..."Now...there is more to my functioning."

"Good," she gave him a gentle kiss. "What do you do for fun, now?"

"I read. I have-" Prowl considered for a moment, trying decide what word to use. "I have family I spend time with. And a friend."

She perked up slightly. "What kind of stories do you enjoy?"

"Thing that you would probably find dull and boring." Prowl admitted. "Histories, biographies. I do enjoy an occasional work of fiction." Those were usually brought to him by the symbiots with demands that he read something interesting for a change.

"And you?" He asked, deciding it was time that he showed some interest in his company.

"The kind that would make your logic center whimper," she chuckled lightly. "Half-cred romances. I read what I can of astrophysics and stellar science, but I don't have the processor to follow it much past the secondary education level."

"To each their own." The Praxian agreed, relaxing more as he settled into the conversation with someone new, a luxury he did not get to enjoy often. "Those are fields even I have to work to comprehend."

He considered. "And how did you come to work among us?"

"When you work out of Vos, it's hard not to have Decepticon clients, especially at my level," she told him. "Ever since Winglord Starscream joined Megatron, most of Vos has gone Con, at least on some level."

A fact Prowl knew to be true, and he nodded understand, studying her curiously. "You choose your clients though?"

"Yes and no," she shrugged one wing. "I have acts I won't do, so Soundwave doesn't send me to those Decepticons, and I can refuse any mech who asks me to as per my contract, but I don't really choose who I see."

He filed that away for consideration as he moved on to something he hoped would be more pleasant to discuss. "So what do you do to relax?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "I hang out with friends, go to vids, plays, dance clubs ... but mostly I fly. When I have enough extra credits I buy half a dozen cubes of really strong Vosian high grade and hire a lift into space. It's a hard trip, but it's worth it to dance in the star's corona."

"I have never had a reason to travel into space, but I would imagine that to be a most amazing experience." Prowl admitted. In truth, Prowl had no idea how it was to be able to fly under his own power, and he could only try to imagine what it was like to be able to touch a star.

"It is," her turbines revved. "Would you like to experience it? Flight under your own power."

Golden optics lit in excitement at the possibility. Even though he knew it wouldn't be for real, she would probably allow him as close as he was ever going to get. "Please?"

With a smile and nod she caught his attention across the hardline and drew his awareness into herself. A memory file was called up, an old one for her. The rush of potent fuel hit him first, the difference in how a Seeker-kin preparing for a hard flight processed it compared to his limited experience with the stuff as an intoxicant. There was no disorientation, no clouding of processors, no _intoxicating_ effects at all.

It was immediately converted to energy for action, stored in systems he didn't have.

Then his/her engines ignited and he felt the rush of unbelievable power unfettered by an atmosphere or even gravity. The great star that helped power their world, a world that still glowed brightly with energy, burned intensely before him and he pushed his frame and engines to their limit to reach it.

Heat radiated out, reaching out to singe his plating, but there was no pain. The energy fueled him, energized him, and he knew no fear.

This was _home_.

Prowl came out of the memory slowly, coming back to his own systems where his sensor wings served only to inform him of his surroundings and the bulk of his energy under stress was directed to his battle computer.

His optics re-focused on the femme next to him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she smiled gently and stroked his chest seam. "Do you have a special memory to share?"

"Nothing so wondrous. It wasn't until I arrived here that I found that I was capable of enjoying my functioning." Prowl admitted quietly.

Starwing hummed, then nuzzled him. "What about your first memory, when you were sparked?"

"It was not good for very long." He considered for a klik. "Do you have any weapons skills?"

"The basics," she nodded, curious where he was going. "Between Seeker heritage and pleasurebot function, it's pretty much required to know how to defend yourself."

"This is relaxing for me."

With that he opened a path in his thoughts, offering to show her if she wanted to see.

Sharp focus and the weight of the weapon in his hand. A pistol, not his sniper rifle. The pistol challenged him more, with additional variables that had to be accounted for because often he was in motion at the same time.

The motion of the target, the identification of the target as legitimate. The mathematical calculations, almost instantaneous, that allowed him to be that much more accurate than his comrades.

Satisfaction, when it was all said and done with a job well done. And the soothing relaxation of working with something methodical and measurable, something that he could make sense of.

Almost shyly Prowl backed away, feeling silly when it was so insignificant compared to what she had shared.

~Not insignificant,~ she brushed against his mind softly. ~Pleasure and joy come in many forms. None of them less significant than the others.~

~If you say so.~ Prowl agreed easily enough. ~Thank you.~


	15. From the Front Lines

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Violence  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<hr>**

At All Costs 15: From the Front Lines

**

* * *

><p>Prowl flinched as another wave of input struck his already damaged sensory panels. His shooting skills were rated excellent, honed by joors of practice and a large amount of program enabled talent. His close combat skills had finally, and grudgingly, been rated as acceptable. All of which added up to the fact the Megatron had declared it time that he prove his usefulness as an officer on the battlefield.<p>

Unfortunately, Prowl was discovering little of that training had prepared him for being in the middle of an actual full-scale combat setting. As much as it had annoyed Hook to patch him back up after a round with Skywarp, the mech had given him the closest experience to what he now faced. Now instead of just one he had multiple bots aiming at him with the intent of extinguishing his spark if they could and doing as much damage as possible if they could not.

The Praxian centered his pistol on a target, diverting a small amount of his attention until the mech would come into range of the smaller weapon. Things had been going well until a blast has scrambled part of his comm system and Prowl had been separated from the mech he was working with. Now, stranded away from the main fighting force, he was hoping to either hear the order to retreat- with his analysis of the direction of the current battle he was estimating the order to come in less than half a joor- or for a long enough lull in the fighting that he could make his way back to the others.

Two more Autobots focused on him, both light frontliners, mechs built for killing speed rather than a slow unstoppable march. Gold and silver ... Prowl's spark nearly froze and he was sure the energon in his lines did as his battle computer spat out their designations and cadre.

Sunstreaker. Sideswipe. Bladebrothers.

Three of the five in that cadre could take on and drive Megatron away. Any one of them was more than a match for Prowl.

He targeted one of them, his battle computer informing him that the odds of him managing to take both of them out, even as good of a shot as he was, was very low. Second hand knowledge also told him that eliminating one of them would exponentially increase the aggression level of the remaining brother, lowering even his small chance of survival.

Still, Prowl was not planning on going down without a fight. There was a very small chance that luck would favor him, and he was going to take it.

Course of action determined, he waited for optimal target position. It wasn't long in coming, and while it was the silver one that came in range first, Prowl remained locked on the golden frame. Sideswipe was known for quick, clean kills. Sunstreaker preferred to mangle those who angered him, drawing the deactivation out for breems of pure pain.

At least those were their reputations.

He squeezed the trigger, focus remaining on Sunstreaker as the golden armor was charged and melted over his chest, dropping the mech into immediate stasis. The howling keen of pain-outrage exploded from the silver mech that was now charging him.

Satisfied that the golden mech was not going to be getting up any time soon Prowl re-focused, trying to get a bead on the silver mech as well. He got the shot in, but the silver mech, even in berserker mode, anticipated it and Prowl missed when the mech went almost went horizontal.

Then the world devolved into sharp pain and a spinning visual feed laced with static as he went flying.

Impact.

Darkness.

The few last struggles of his processor as awareness faded.

Regret and sorrow for everything that he was leaving unresolved. Soundwave. The symbiots. Jazz. All that they had come to mean to him in a very short time.

And relief that the personal turmoil and doubt in his spark was something that he would no longer have to deal with.

And Chance laughing at him when it pointed out that his final evaluation had been correct. Sideswipe's strike had been quick and clean.

Then nothing.

* * *

><p>Pain as his processor started to function once more.<p>

Protocols that he had rarely used kicked in, booting his system in a still unfamiliar order, one geared for survival.

Still, a small part of his processor that operated even beyond those protocols seemed to think that it was helpful to point out that since he hadn't expected to ever boot up again the pain was probably a good sign.

The presence of another functioning individual was the first thing registered. Then the realization that he was restrained. And all of that before his optics finally cycled and focused enough for him to evaluate his surroundings.

The mech hovering over him, working on him, was unfamiliar. Black, dark green and dark red. Spiky. Green visor. Hard face. Optics scanned for an insignia even as damaged systems tried to ping for an ID, or at least a faction.

"Won't find one," the rough voice growled at him. "It's Top Notch."

Memory files supplied the rest. Autobot. SpecOps. Top ranked. Did _everything_.

An internal flinch. He was in trouble now, and part of him wished that the silver mech, the last thing he really recalled before blacking out, had been more thorough.

He was captured, and that was the last place he wanted to be. Megatron was not going to forgive this easily, provided he managed to make it back to his side at all.

"Anybody told you how much of a _pain_ wings are to stop bleeding?" Top Notch grumbled as Prowl realized the battle was still raging in the distance. "Have to give you credit though, not many would take out Sunny first when Sides is closer. Smart move, I guess."

"I am intimately familiar with the difficulties of having wings." Prowl hissed as his processor started to accept other input, including the actual condition of his sensor wings. He took a moment and considered his current position. "Thank you."

Top Notch grunted. "You're a lot more valuable to me alive than torn in two." He paused, seeming to check his work. "Still sharing Soundwave's berth?"

Prowl didn't answer right away, battle computer running an evaluation. Either way he was potential leverage, but his answer would most likely affect how the leverage was applied.

Finally he sighed. "Yes."

Top Notch just nodded. "Got enough motor control to walk?"

"Yes."

"Then come on. Hook can finish fixing you."

Prowl froze momentarily as he processed that. "You're returning me?"

The rough looking, dark mech smirked and helped the still-restrained mech to his pedes. "Yap. You're worth more to me as a favor owed by Soundwave than you are a prisoner."

The Praxian swayed, the damage to his sensor wings wreaking havoc with his balance as his processor struggled to compensate. Finally somewhat steady he was tempted to resist, but considering the fact that he was barely functioning escape was not an option and resistance a futile gesture. So he allowed Top Notch to support the majority of his weight, compensate for his faulty balance, and lead him across the edge of the battlefield.

Prowl saw Ravage before Top Notch seemed to, but the feline symbiot seemed reluctant to pounce.

Instead she shadowed them, agitated, and Prowl avoided looking at her too much. While he was very familiar with the symbiots, how they acted in battle situations was not something he understood well with his lack of combat experience.

Regardless, Ravage's presence meant that Soundwave was now fully aware of Prowl's situation and location. Whether he would come to rescue or negotiate, Prowl was certain he would come.

Behind an upturned street that created a shelter of sorts, Top Notch paused, then shifted his weight to settle in and watch.

"Top Notch: price for Prowl?" Soundwave's voice greeted them as the giant stepped into view from around a shattered building, Rumble and Frenzy by his pedes.

"You owe me, or my master, whoever asks first," the SpecOps mech said simply. "It won't be cheep."

Soundwave stared at the pair, at Prowl and the situation for a lingering klik.

"Soundwave: agrees to Top Notch's price."

Outwardly calm, Prowl cringed on the inside as Soundwave agreed. It was far to high, open ended and dangerous, even though Prowl was not surprised at that the host had accepted. It was, beyond anything Soundwave could say in private, proof of how much Prowl meant to him. It was comforting and embarrassing all at once.

"Then he's all yours," Top Notch said cheerfully and let Prowl go, slipping the restrains off in a single motion before he sauntered off towards the main battle.

Soundwave had to move quickly to catch Prowl before the Praxian lost his balance at the sudden loss of his physical support, but he did.

Prowl collapsed against him, relief flooding through him, quickly replaced with guilt and sorrow. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Soundwave: will not regret deal to have Prowl returned," he said firmly. "Prowl: needs to be repaired." He added as he picked the Praxian up, careful of the damaged senor wings.

In too much pain, and honestly too weak and tired to protest, Prowl settled in to being carried. He relaxed against Soundwave, drawing comfort and a sense of safety from being in the mech's strong hold.

Instead he looked for something else to focus on. "Comm's messed up. What happened?"

"Battle: going poorly. Retreat: to be called soon. Megatron: stubborn." Soundwave paused. "Megatron: will be pleased with Prowl."

"You mean as long as we don't tell him I got myself captured?" Prowl asked, comfortable enough with Soundwave to be a little sarcastic. It did not help matters that he was rating his own performance very poor.

"Correct," Soundwave didn't hide the smile in his voice. "Prowl: survived attack by both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Incapacitated Sunstreaker. Prowl: will see many more battle front lines."

The Praxian groaned softly. He was not looking forward to battle, no matter how pleased Megatron was potentially going to be with him.

The fact the Soundwave was pleased with him made him happy, but he did wish even that could be under different circumstances. "I doubt that surviving Sideswipe was my own doing."

"Prowl: correct. Top Notch ordered Sideswipe to take Sunstreaker to medical care. Prowl: does not need to fight for Soundwave to be proud." A large tentacle slid from Soundwave's spinal strut to caress Prowl. "Prowl: shut down. Soundwave: will care for Prowl."

Safe and trusting completely that everything would be all right, Prowl did as told, shutting down to conserve and escape the constant, steady throb of battle damaging eating into his small reserves.

* * *

><p>Pain. Ghost pain.<p>

Prowl muted the groan that wanted to escape him. If all he was getting was ghost pain it meant that the repairs, whatever he had suffered, were complete. It also meant that he was likely in Hook's repair bay and at the most a breem or so away from another lecture. It was a familiar routine.

"I heard your systems come online, so unless there is something not processing correctly you might as well finish cycling up."

Make that breem less than a klik.

Reluctantly Prowl powered up, optics coming online last to take the very familiar location, and the very familiar mech associated with that location. "My processor is working correctly."

"Good. Then you can tell me just what possessed you to take on those Pit-forsaken _Twins_?" Hook snarled, his distress radiating through his field for Prowl to _feel_.

"I didn't ask for them to target me." Prowl replied, certain that he was the source of that distress, even if there was nothing he could do about it. "I didn't even know they were there until they were coming at me."

"And the common sense response is to transform and _bolt_," Hook growled.

"Taking them on and surviving is the brave response, and proof I selected well," Megatron's deep, resonant voice carried over the bay as he walked towards the smaller mechs.

Prowl nodded his head respectfully, weary even with the compliment since the memory of this same mech beating him to the point of stasis was still fresh in his processor. "Sir."

"Continue to train and perform this well and you'll change my processor about how effective Praxians can be," the silver giant grinned at him before leaving.

A small shiver ran through Prowl, the statement and the expression disturbing. He vented softly, saving it all and adding it to the list of things he needed to consider when he had the time to just _think_.

"Good luck with that," Hook said quietly when he was sure they were alone again. "He's as easy to figure out as why Primus allows so much imperfection to exist on his chassis."

A twitch as Prowl had to admit that Hook was right. Pushing troubling thoughts aside he focused on his sensor wings, moving them slowly. "How bad was it this time?"

"Skywarp did worse," he admitted grudgingly. "Sideswipe wanted to kill you. Skywarp was out to mangle you. You have to learn not to be separated from your backup. No matter what Megatron may think, you were _lucky_."

"Agreed." Prowl was not sure how much of his 'luck' was common knowledge, and he wasn't about to try and find out from Hook. "May I go?"

"Yes," the Constructicon stepped back. "Just don't grace my medbay after _every_ battle."

"I shall attempt not to." Prowl replied sincerely as he departed in search of energon, company, and peace.

* * *

><p>Prowl had abandoned reading in favor of watching Soundwave repair the extensive damage Buzzsaw had taken in the battle. He had always been aware, at least peripherally, that Soundwave performed all the repairs and maintenance on his symbiots. He hadn't realized until then just how broad and skilled that knowledge base ran. Buzzsaw had lost an entire wing, half the other one, and taken blaster to the chest. Yet none of them even thought about taking him to Hook. Even this level of surgery was Soundwave's to do, and do well.<p>

"He built all our frames, he knows how to repair them better than anyone," Ravage spoke up with a soothing purr from Prowl's leg.

"I can believe it." Prowl replied, there being little the host could not manage he was discovering, especially when it came to those who were dependent on him. He reached down, hand coming into contact with Ravage's head in a return gesture of his own. "Still, I find it comforting that repair to injuries this extensive is not something I have had to witness often."

"Affirmative," Soundwave said without shifting his attention. "Prowl: fully recovered from battle?"

"Recovered enough. The connectors for my sensor panels have not yet finished recalibrating. They should be fine after recharge."

"He meant your meta too," Ravage said quietly, rubbing her head against his hand. "First battles are hard, first personal kills are hard, almost extinguishing is hard, being captured is hard. You went through a lot Prowl. He's seen each of us through those, but not all at once."

A flick of his sensor panels, face expressionless as she spoke. Everything that he had avoided considering coming back all at once as his processor began to play the battle for him in detail.

Battle, as inevitable as it was, Prowl was now sure he hated. Killing ... he handled that much better. He did not kill to kill - he killed to protect. To defend. It made it little easier, but it made it bearable.

Almost extinguishing, as she had phrased it, his feelings on that he held close. Irrationally he had already wished that Top Notch had not stopped the frontliner. That instead he had allowed the silver mech to finish him, as he had so obviously wished.

His capture still weighed heavily on his processor as well. Not for himself, but at the price now hovering over Soundwave for his return. Emotions ran through him, his entire frame quivering as he struggled to control them, to not distract Soundwave from his work.

"Prowl: control comes from understanding. Emotions: must be understood to be mastered. Soundwave: not distracted by emotions."

That was a relief, though a small one as Prowl pulled back from Ravage. He wanted the physical contact, the comfort that he had become so accustomed to having here, but he also did not want to force his distress on anyone else.

"I shall have to learn to understand then." He replied, voice shaky despite his best efforts.

He found Ravage's front paws on his upper leg as she butted his hand to be petted. Laserbeak flew over to his shoulder to nuzzle him. Even the twins were quiet, which was as close as either came to being emotionally supportive.

"Family: supports each other," Soundwave said simply. "Prowl: not alone."

"Thank you." Prowl ran his hand over Ravage's head, methodical and slow as the contact soothed his stress, shifting his wings to allow Laserbeak to settle in better.

He turned his attention back to watching Soundwave work on Buzzsaw. It was soothing in a completely different way, and gradually Prowl realized that Soundwave possessed the skills to repair _him_ ... if need be.

"Affirmative," Soundwave said as he finished attaching Buzzsaw's new wing. "Advantage: few mechs realize Soundwave's full skill set. Prowl: more difficult to repair. Soundwave: did not design or construct Prowl."

"Don't let him fool you," Laserbeak trilled quietly, as if by whispering Soundwave wouldn't overhear. "The idea of operating on you freaks him out bad."

Prowl reached up, offering a hand and similar affection to Laserbeak and found the avian immediately nuzzling into his hand. "My systems are that different?"

"Negative," Soundwave responded as he went to work on Buzzsaw's other wing. "Prowl: Less emotional distance from Soundwave."

That floored him as he tried to work through that, as he looked down at Ravage. "I trust you." He said quietly, not sure if it was the correct reassurance, but it was the truth.

He actually saw a small tremor pass through Soundwave's frame, though the mech had prepared for it by removing his tool from Buzzsaw. A wash of relief-gratitude-affection-desire rolled over him from the telepath. Laserbeak and Ravage both sent their approval-affection through their fields.

Prowl saw no need for words as he allowed his field to spread out once more, touching them with his own affection and thanks, and peace that ran spark deep.


	16. A New Kind of Training

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Sticky, Spark  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Soundwave introduces Prowl to Korrës for Metallikato training  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 16: A New Kind of Training<p>**

* * *

><p>"Prowl: new combat training method begins now," Soundwave said evenly as they approached the training room reserved for them. "Korrës: master of Metallikato. Korrës: agreed to train Prowl as long as Prowl wishes."<p>

"You believe that this will be a benefit?" Prowl knew only the theory of the extremely uncommon fighting method. That it was difficult to master but extremely effective when employed correctly.

"Prowl: possess the focus and processor to use Metallikato effectively. Soundwave: believes it will assist Prowl in more than battle," he said as he opened the door to the room.

A single glance told Prowl it had been modified enough that it was now ill-suited for general use. Ancient weapons were on the walls, a large section of the floor had been built into a hexagonal platform that mimicked the shape of the Matrix of Leadership's center opening. The mech seated in the center was small, likely a tall minibot, but with less than no mass to him. Very limited armor, this black and gold mech with a deep red visor was all about speed and not actually taking a hit.

"Korrës: believes Prowl can be trained to make full use of Metallikato and Diffusion in time. Korrës: Willing to train Prowl."

If it was anyone but Soundwave telling him this Prowl would have been inclined to doubt. As it was he was willing to try as he stepped forward and waited patiently for some form of direction. Even as he waited he was not idle, sensors tuned to the highest level as he scanned the training room, learning as much about his environment as possible while he had the chance.

"Observant; good." The small mech spoke with a low, quiet voice that still commanded attention from everyone, even Soundwave. "Sit, Prowl," Korrës motioned before himself.

Prowl weighed the invitation for a moment before deciding to take it at face value and crossed to settle in front of the mech, copying him as much as he could. While others he had trained with had used a time like this to teach him to trust nothing to be completely as it seemed, he had a feeling that this was different.

"What do you seek to accomplish in your training?" Korrës asked calmly, his manner nothing like any Decepticon Prowl had ever met.

The Praxian considered his answer carefully and fully before answering honestly. "I wish to be able to defend myself and those in my care. I seek to be able to understand and control my emotions and reactions, instead of reacting to them. I seek to learn."

Korrës nodded slightly. "Then that is what I will teach you. In this room there is no rank other than in the Arts. This isignia," he brushed over the purple emblem on his chest, "means nothing here. I promise I will push you. I will hurt you. I will find every weakness in your processors and frame. What can not be eliminated I will train you to counter. As a favor to a very old friend and ally, I will train you in a few basic techniques out of order to help you survive long enough to master the rest."

He locked visor to optics. "Are you prepared to dedicate at least four joor an orn to your training for the next several hundred vorns?"

The time set Prowl back for a moment, but he quickly reconsidered. Soundwave would had to have known that something like this would be asked of him, would not have brought him here for this if there was not some way to make it work. And if this training could do all that was promised, Prowl was more than ready to admit that he _needed_ it.

"I am."

"Good," Korrës stood smoothly, every atom in his frame under perfect control. "Then let us begin by determining your current style and inherent reflexes. Attack me."

The Praxian rose as well, his control visibly less than the mech facing him. He took a second to center himself, drawing on the focus that had finally started giving him an edge in his other combat training, deliberately lowering his need to analyze and increasing his ability to just react.

He struck, moving in with a level attack he had found effective on a shorter opponent ... and connected with thin air. A hand every so lightly connected with his first right sensor panel, but the expected pain did not come.

"Pain is an effective teacher for most," Korrës spoke calmly. "You think, analyze, plan. You will learn more effectively when you are not distracted." The slender mech twisted around, almost floating on air, and stood still behind Prowl. "There will be pain in future lessons, but not these. The basics are too simple for you to require an incentive not to be hit. Your will to succeed is all the incentive you require."

Prowl took that as permission to function as he was meant to, stopping and actually working through what had just happened. Without the threat of pain, of another attack coming at him before he could process what had just happened and how to respond ... it was a relief.

Once he had worked through what happened, if not how, he turned to face Korrës again, waiting.

The mech didn't make him wait long, but the punching attack to his chest center seam came in what seemed slow motion. Fast enough to be effective, but slow enough for Prowl to take in what was going on and have a chance to respond.

Prowl moved as he would have in any other sparring match, stance shifting and arm rising to defect the blow while his other hand came up to counter with a strike of his own.

His target was nowhere to be hit, again, but Prowl never quite lost track of him thanks to all the environmental data his sensory wings gave him.

"Attack when ready," Korrës instructed.

* * *

><p>Almost four full joor later Prowl stood in Soundwave's washrack, a space he had come to think of as his own. He allowed the warm solvent to run over his plating, processor still going over the events of the orn. He was tired, taxed in way that he hadn't been in a long time. It was nice change.<p>

Sensor wings flicked, identifying the mech approaching and turning to look at Soundwave with a smile.

"Prowl: is pleased," the giant smiled, his mask retracted now that they were in private. "Soundwave: pleased by this. Prowl: would welcome assistance?"

"Always." Prowl replied, welcoming the company. "And thank you. Today was...most interesting."

"Soundwave: pleased," he murmured and stepped into the spray. He allowed it to soak into his skeletal frame for a lingering moment before reaching for a washcloth and going to work on Prowl's long, elegant sensor wings. He stroked as much as scrubbed, enjoying the soft sounds and thoughts of pleasure it generated. "Prowl: still desires to continue training with Korrës?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in the answer from Prowl as he relaxed into the touch. "Thank you. I'm sure this wasn't easy to coordinate."

"Prowl: worth the effort," Soundwave said firmly, extending his field to reinforce the statement that Prowl _was_ worth it all. "Korrës: desired extended break from deep cover. Soundwave: able to arrange local duties for Korrës."

Thanks and deep affection ran though Prowl's field as it wove into Soundwave's. Selecting a cleaner of his own Prowl turned and started to work on the larger mechs ribbing. "It seems like everyone benefits then, though I am sorry, however worth it you seem to believe, that you spent another favor on me."

Soundwave caught Prowl's chin and tipped it up for a long, lingering and very gentle kiss. "Prowl: _worth_ the favors. Soundwave: happy to have the favors to trade. Soundwave..." he paused, resting his forehelm against Prowl's and seemed to gather himself. "Soundwave: would bond with Prowl, if Prowl ever consents."

Fear radiated from Prowl, not a fear of Soundwave, but at the unknown and the prospect. A prospect he still considered himself completely unworthy of.

But there was no denial, no refusal, as he leaned into the touch, just a lingering uncertainty. Not a never, just a not yet.

"Soundwave: has waited Prowl's entire existence to touch Prowl. Soundwave: will gladly wait until Prowl is _ready_ to bond with Soundwave," the giant promised with everything he had to convince the mech with him that there would be no force, no expectation or timeline. It was a statement, an offer, and nothing more. It was up to Prowl now to decide when, and if, to accept it.

"Thank you." Prowl murmured, offering a gentle kiss of his own with acceptance and gratitude in his field. The fear faded, with awe that never left him that he was wanted so much rising back to the surface as he continued to work on Soundwave and he changed the subject.

"You have known my new master for a long time?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave murmured, more interested in the kiss and emotional warmth he had drawn from his lover than anything. It was a blissful experience for the telepath. "Soundwave: knew Korrës many vorns before the war."

Prowl hummed quietly, loosing himself in the steady rhythm of mutual cleaning as he thought, content in Soundwave's presence. His thoughts wandered over what he had learned and Soundwave's admission until he realized it continued to circle back to one thing.

The motion stopped as he considered that one thing, looking up at Soundwave with curious optics. "Why me?"

Soundwave paused briefly, even though he'd been expecting the question. "Prowl's spark: special. Resonates with Soundwave," he answered as best he could. "No other: feels the same."

Prowl considered that, still not quite understanding but content with the answer for now. He wondered at the resonance, wondered if that was the reason he was always content to be with Soundwave, to be around the other mech and the symbiots.

"Prowl: matured into a fine mech," Soundwave added after a moment, humming in pleasure at the simple, non-sensual contact they were sharing in cleaning each other.

It was a soothing routine that both mechs had become accustomed to, and one that Prowl actually looked forward to, cleaning as much of the larger mech as he could reach. When he had gotten that far, Soundwave knelt without being asked, kissing Prowl on the center of his chevron.

With the advantage of reach and tentacles, he worked on Prowl's back while the smaller mech cleaned up upper frame with sure, strong strokes.

It felt so _good_ to both of them, the pleasure of the simple act, one done communally by mechs every orn, but made special by the care they took.

Done scrubbing, Prowl glanced over his work and nodded in satisfaction before nudging Soundwave more squarely under the solvent spray, waiting his turn to rinse as well and finish for the evening.

As Prowl took his turn under the rinse, he had no doubt there would be very passionate interfacing before recharge. Something about watching him succeed worked very well for Soundwave. A shiver ran through him despite the warmth of the solvent, the idea actually appealing as he shut the spray off and flared his sensor wings, flicking solvent from them and catching Soundwave's attention.

The larger mech perked up, feeling the subtle difference in Prowl's desire and responding to it strongly. He knelt to claim Prowl's mouth, all his desire for the Praxian channeled into that one point of contact.

The Praxian moaned, desire spreading through his entire frame and bleeding back out into his field, flared completely to surround Soundwave as well, full of his willingness and want.

With a moan in reply, Soundwave picked Prowl up and held him close for the short walk to their berth. He never broke their kiss, the passionate point of contact that was making both their circuits heat and tingle.

By the time Soundwave laid on the berth with Prowl over him, his tentacles were out, caressing Prowl's sensor wings with a fervor and desire that had never been between them before. The giant was trembling, hot with desire in response to the first true _want_ from his lover.

Prowl responded to the want, arching into the touch as his fingers traced and caressed, touching over sensitive spots, seeking everything that he had found that worked to drive the mech beneath him hotter. Wanting to drive Soundwave, to give as he was being given, and the larger mech didn't even make a token resistance to the effort.

With a rumbling moan Soundwave reached out to weave their minds together as he unlatched his spike cover and allowed the thick length to pressurize as he moaned his lover's designation in a trembling voice of pure ecstasy.

There was none of Prowl's usual reservation at the joining of their minds, scrambling to claim Soundwave's mouth again, valve exposed and waiting as Prowl made it so very clear how much he wanted. Soundwave could only moan into the kiss and tremble as he guided Prowl backwards. With the familiarity of experience, of knowing what set Soundwave off, Prowl lifted himself upright and spread his wings wide as his hips were guided down onto the long, thick spike that pleasured his valve like no other.

He felt the heat of desire, sharper than ever before, roll of Soundwave and into him as their frame came together, joined in the newest kind of intimacy their species knew.

A static keen escaped as he was stretched and filled, wings flaring and trembling at the feeling that he had come to love, the sensation that only came from Soundwave and claimed him in way no one else did, no one else could.

Desire was shared and returned, frame twitching and trembling as a hand reached out, asking but not touching, to Soundwave's face and the optics still sheltered beneath the red visor. "Let me see."

Intense pleasure rippled from the telepath as the command was sent, revealing bright white optics that were riveted on Prowl frame, on his face, on the pleasure there as Prowl's hips lifted to send waves of physical pleasure through them both.

Prowl whimpered softly, attention focused on Soundwave's face as his hips rose and fell, valve rippling and clenching as he rode that thick spike. The pleasure built, energy zapping from one node to the next. Soundwave's physical and emotional pleasure echoed brightly on Prowl's sensor net and his processors, as intimate as a hardline and more.

"So lovely, so handsome, my Prowl," Soundwave moaned, his processors tangled enough in Prowl's to use much of the other mech's vocal patterns.

The Praxian's head shook slightly, denial that he didn't even try to find words for as pleasure touched him in every way possible except one.

A hand stroked along Soundwave's chest, a memory of pleasure and bliss clear among Prowl's muddled thoughts of an intimate sharing he had experienced once before.

Soundwave trembled as he parted his chest without hesitation. His bright white spark with ribbons of color and five times the size of Prowl's, reached out the moment it's casing parted.

"My spark: yours," Soundwave shivered in anticipation, want, desire he didn't dare contemplate he would know.

The sentiment made it through, even if the words were lost on Prowl as he stared. He hadn't consciously seen the giant mech's spark the one time they had merged, and looking at it now he didn't think that he had ever seen anything so amazing.

He wanted to feel that again, desperately so, but even as his chest plates slid away, exposing his own spark, he hesitated.

"Prowl: perfect." Soundwave nearly keened in his desire and suddenly dropped the bulk of his firewalls that kept his telepathy one-way. It flooded Prowl with everything Soundwave felt for him, thought of him, desired for him. Not just the facts, but how intense and deep and _old_ the emotions ran.

Prowl did keen, his spark responding to everything as it hit him, gold laced blue glow a pale contrast to the brilliant light it lunged toward. There was only a moment of mutual awareness before Prowl's spark plunged deeply enough it completely disappeared within the giant orb and both were lost in a sharing deeper than the most complete of mind melds.


	17. Lover or Duty?

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Jazz and Prowl have another night together, one filled with both pleasure and pain.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 17: Lover or Duty?<p>**

* * *

><p>The Praxian's steps were slower this time as he made his way once more to the quarters he rarely used any more. How much they were used by others was something he would have to ask Jazz, since he had essentially given the pleasurebot permission to use them as he pleased. Jazz...<p>

The energon Prowl carried with him was for them, high quality midgrade much like what Soundwave had offered him the first time they had refueled together in the officers rec room. Soundwave...

With him also was a gift for the silver minibot. It was practical, but all the same something that Prowl hoped his lover would appreciate and enjoy. Reaching the room- he didn't even think of it as his room anymore, with Soundwave's quarters his home now- Prowl still walked straight in as the door opened before him.

"Hey lover," Jazz greeted him cheerfully from the berth where he was making a delightfully sensual display of himself given all his panels were closed. "You look thoughtful."

Prowl stopped in his tracks as he door slid closed, optics sweeping over the beautiful form sprawled on the berth. A small smile of greeting as he held out one of the cubes of energon. Without hesitation Jazz rolled gracefully to his pedes and walked over to accept the cube, though he claimed a kiss as well.

"I am distracted this orn. Apologies," Prowl smiled at the contact, warmed by the easy, affectionate way they interacted. So different from being with Soundwave, yet no less desired.

"Forgiven," Jazz purred and took a sip. His visor brightened in surprise. "Thank you," he said with absolute sincerity as the smooth, perfectly balanced energy slid down his intake and into his tank. "This tastes like one of Mixmaster's better brews."

A smile, almost a smirk really, and a flicker of pride in Prowl at his ability to surprise and please Jazz. He leaned in to steal another kiss, savoring the mix of flavor that was Jazz and the sweetness of the energon.

"It is. I was hoping you would like it." He explained as he broke off the kiss and nuzzled against Jazz's sensor horns.

"Mmm, I very much do," Jazz said and turned into another quick kiss. "A special occasion?"

Prowl shook his head, setting his energon aside and drawing Jazz against him. "Nothing other than finally getting to see you again."

The silver mech shivered in anticipation and enjoyment of the contact. He slid his arms around Prowl's shoulders. "I'm very happy to be in your arms again," Jazz murmured as he snuggled close. "I hear you've finally got an instructor you mesh with well."

Prowl hummed as he simply enjoyed the contact and the calm that flowed through him at just being close to Jazz. "Indeed. I believe my new master will be much more beneficial and effective than most of my past sparring partners. It is a welcome change."

"Glad to hear it," Jazz's field flowed with honesty, gratitude and pleasure. "I really do feel better than you're learning to protect yourself around here ... I heard you were on the battlefield too," he shivered in the natural fear of a non-combatant towards war.

Sensor wings twitched at the memories that surfaced and the emotions still not completely worked through that went with them. The memory pain reaction was one he was long familiar with, but the lingering guilt over being captured still plagued Prowl.

"As much as I wish it were unnecessary, I am thankful for the chance." He sighed, holding Jazz closer.

"So, on to better things?" Jazz suggested. "You brought delightful distilled and mixed energon and we have many joors to enjoy each other."

Strong hand stroked down Jazz's back, optics studying Jazz for a moment before Prowl nodded. "I like the sound of that."

"Good," Jazz purred, revving his engine and extending a playful tendril of desire into his field for Prowl to feel as he stepped backwards towards the berth until he let go of Prowl to fall backwards in a graceful sprawl, looking up at Prowl with desire and an open hope the larger mech would pounce on him, take and use him with those incredible wings spread out above them.

Prowl shivered at the desire, so different in intensity from what he was used to but no less honest. He glided forward, not pouncing but pinning the smaller mech to the berth firmly, claiming a light kiss. "Jazz?"

A low, desperately needy whine answered as Jazz squirmed under him. The silver mech's field exploded towards Prowl with the intensity of arousal this created in him, begging the larger mech to do more than make love. "Please," he gasped, offering his throat, his valve cover sliding out of the way at the same time as his dataport covers. "Oh _Primus_ what you do to me."

The dataports were ignored, a part of Prowl needing to be sure that this was Jazz underneath him, Jazz kissing him, Jazz crying out as Prowl freed his spike and plunged it into the waiting valve. The physical pleasure was intense and with every stroke, every blissful cry Jazz let out shamelessly, Prowl was that much more convinced that this was the only valve he wanted.

The raw, core-deep bliss Jazz was radiating as his desire was indulged was intoxicating. So was the instinctive way Jazz moved into each thrust, the way the lithe mech moaned and shuddered and keened uncontrollably even before the charge built very high.

Any doubts that Prowl had were buried underneath mutual desire and pleasure. Bracing himself on the berth, he claimed Jazz's mouth as he shifted his frame to drive that much deeper and harder into the mech underneath him.

Moaning, Prowl broke the kiss so that he could watch Jazz when the mech overloaded, wanting to see his lover come undone and overload from what Prowl could provide.

He pushed his field into the smaller mech, encouraging Jazz to let go and found no resistance. A last thrust and Jazz cried out sharply, a static-filled sound that could have been Prowl's designation.

The beautiful silver minibot's features were expressive in his pleasure, unguarded as he overloaded. His valve rippled and squeezed the spike in it and his field replied in kind, seeking to drive Prowl over the edge.

Prowl only fought it for a moment, savoring Jazz's release before falling into his own, crying out in bliss.

He came around quickly, content but nowhere near spent as he settled down, mostly on the smaller mech. Wrapping an arm around Jazz he nuzzled him, waiting for his lover to come around as well.

"Thank you," Jazz whispered, a hint of guilt creeping into him. "I shouldn't have asked..."

Prowl pulled back, staring at him in confusion as doubt rippled through him. "Why?"

"You don't _really_ love doing that," Jazz said simply, ducking his head in embarrassment. "It's unprofessional in the extreme to put my desires over yours when I'm being paid."

He flinched as though he had been struck, and Prowl freed himself, releasing Jazz and pulling away. Doubt resurfaced, stronger than before as he looked at Jazz. "Is that how you feel?"

"No," Jazz murmured, now radiating embarrassment, guilt and regret. "How I feel about you is _why_ asking for what I wanted even crossed my processors, much less my vocalizer. It's hard to think of you as a client."

"You do still think of me as just another client?" Prowl pushed, needing to know and dreading the answer he might get in return. Jazz made his spark sing, made Prowl want and desire and feel seemingly without effort.

Prowl admitted in his spark, to himself, that he loved Jazz. If Jazz felt nothing for him, he wanted to know now. Before it broke him.

Jazz curled in on himself, hurting himself with every word he spoke as function-code punished him for inexcusable failures.

"No," he managed to choke out. "I love you, Prowl." He trembled in pain. "You _aren't_ just a client. But right now I'm being paid to indulge you, to provide for _your_ desires, not my own. My desires _should_, _need_ to be on my own time, and only then."

Prowl broke, just not in the way he had feared he would. He pulled the smaller mech into his lap, holding him close, smoothing hands over armor meant to be soothing and sorry for what he had done. "Stop. Please." He kissed Jazz's helm. "My time is your time. My desire is for you to enjoy our time together as much as I do."

And then he stepped off a cliff.

"I love you."

Jazz could only sob and tremble as he pressed against Prowl, his field begging for forgiveness he knew he'd already been given. Slowly, too slowly for Prowl, Jazz calmed, his code soothed enough to let him be.

Slowly, Jazz nodded against Prowl's chest, his vents still hiccupping slightly as he breathed.

"I'm sorry," Jazz murmured. "My function code has fits about the emotions I wasn't programmed with originally."

"There is nothing to be sorry for. If anything I should apologize. I pushed you." Prowl continued to stroke down Jazz back, long calming strokes as his field wrapped around the mech in his arms, full of Prowl's own apology. "I'm sorry. But ... I needed to know."

Jazz nodded against his chest as he finally settled fully. He turned his head to kiss Prowl's chest seal.

"So ... um, how do I fit in with Soundwave?" Jazz asked, uneasy but needing to know. Soundwave was _not_ a mech to steal from, especially not a lover.

Prowl vented softly, nuzzling at Jazz's helm. "I have no intention of leaving Soundwave, nor do I intend to give you up. He has not said anything against my spending time with you, and I do not plan to bring it up until he does."

Jazz nodded and crawled up Prowl's chest to kiss him. "You're planning though," he purred softly with an understanding smile. "You're too much a planner not to."

Prowl smiled, teasing Jazz's lips with his own. "I said I do not intend to give you up."

"I hope he doesn't object," Jazz murmured and kissed him again, moving his hands to stroke Prowl's chassis. "Indulge my coding. What would you enjoy most?"

Prowl hummed softly, sensor wings twitching as he considered, running a hand lightly over Jazz's chest plating to see what kind of reaction it earned him. The smaller mech shivered and rumbled in excitement, his engine revving in anticipation at just the possibility of touching their sparks.

The shiver traveled through Prowl as well, and he kissed Jazz. "Share with me?"

Jazz answered with a moan and flare of desire in his field as he parted his chest plates. "Please," he moaned.

Prowl rested his head against Jazz's, lifting the smaller mech easily to bring them on level as he bared his own spark, excitement and just a hint of fear fluttering through him despite how much he wanted this. He was entranced by the glimmering purple light of Jazz's spark, so different from Soundwave's, even different from Prowl's own.

"Pleasure ... or more?" Jazz offered with a trembling voice.

"Pleasure." Prowl confirmed, trembling at holding back when all his spark wanted was to touch the one so close to it.

Jazz smiled warmly and leaned forward, brushing their coronas together. The jolt of pleasure-energy rushed through them both, drawing moans as they pressed closer.

Prowl was prepared to loose himself to the sharing as he always had before, and it took a moment with the next rush of pleasure to realize that he was still somewhat in control. A split second of consideration and it was Prowl who initiated the next touch, bringing Jazz against him and drawing out the contact longer.

With a delighted sound Jazz surrendered all control to his lover, offering up himself to Prowl.

~Love you,~ Jazz moaned across the growing connection between them.

Prowl whimpered, his own want/need/desire flowing across the connection as answer to the admission as he willingly fell into the merge, taking whatever Jazz offered and giving as much in return until the universe whited out in bliss that went beyond the physical.

It took much longer for Prowl to come around this time, his systems still not accustomed to this wonderful form of intimacy. He purred in contentment though, snuggling Jazz closer against his now closed chest plating. "Wonderful."

"Very wonderful," Jazz purred in reply. "It's special when you desire who you're with."

Since Prowl could not imagine baring his spark to someone he did not love, much less someone he didn't even desire, he decided he would have to take Jazz's word on that one. He nuzzled Jazz affectionately. "And I certainly desire you."

The silver minibot purred and reached down to stroke Prowl's spike lightly. "A good thing, to me," Jazz murmured as he stretched into a kiss.

Prowl moaned, hips shifting into the touch. "Which is all that matters."

"I love your pleasure, Prowl," Jazz said into a kiss that quickly became passionate. "How you taste. How you feel against me, inside me, around me."

Prowl's field flared in response, wrapping around Jazz and carrying Prowl's feelings with it. His need to have Jazz with him, his desire to see him happy, his want as his hands traveled down the silver frame to rest on Jazz's hips before diving into the joint seems in search of the sensitive wiring buried there.

"I love you." Loved the life in Jazz, loved the way that Jazz could get him to feel, the balancing of excitement and content peace when they were together that Prowl had initially found so addictive.

A low, full-frame moan echoed in response as Jazz trembled. "Love you, addicted to you, want you so bad." His hips tried to press into the mirrored touches before he gently pushed Prowl to his back and straddled his waist. "I know you love to watch me ride your spike." Jazz grinned down at him, adoring and playful at once before he lowered himself onto the spike he enjoyed so much.

"Beautiful." Prowl responded, a tremble running through his frame from the feelings directed at him and from the wonderfully slick pressure around his spike.

Fingers dug in, finding the spots Prowl remembered there as his wings flared.

"So you are," Jazz visor latched onto the spread wings as he did his best to arch and display himself for his lover ... and oh yes, client or not, Prowl _was_ his lover now. "So beautiful. You feel _so_ good inside me." Jazz trembled. "I hope Soundwave feels this good for you."

Prowl smiled a little, reaching up to draw Jazz into a kiss, passionate and gentle. "Soundwave is very good. But he is not you." He kissed Jazz again. "And you are not him."

Jazz moaned into the kiss, his hands spreading across Prowl's chest once more. He trembled in memory of just how sweetly intense their merge had been. It was an entirely different kind of pleasure, but ... Jazz was addicted. He knew it deep down. He'd merged with thousands of mechs over his vorns, always for pay. But Prowl ... Pit take him, Prowl really _was_ different.

And Jazz wanted him, all of him. Wanted to be completely honest with him even though he knew he never could be. Not until they bonded.

Prowl quivered under the touch, glossa running along Jazz's lips as his hands traveled down Jazz's back, drawing the mech to him and stopping to tease Jazz's hips once more as he thrust upward slowly.

He wanted. Wanted Jazz any way the mech was willing to be with him and willing to give almost anything to keep him.

The implications of that attachment were something Prowl absolutely refused to contemplate, much less allow his battle computer access to.


	18. Painful Lessons

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13 for violence  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Violence  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Korrës begins teaching Prowl how to function through pain.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 18: Painful Lessons<p>**

* * *

><p>A full vorn.<p>

One full vorn under Korrës' tutilage and Prowl felt confident he could handle himself respectably in battle, be it in the halls or on the field. He still wasn't a skilled warrior by any stretch, but he was no longer _prey_.

While Prowl had yet to come close to actually landing a hit on Metallikato master, his master was far superior to any opponent he was likely to encounter on a daily basis. It had reached the point that Prowl actually looked forward to his lessons, finding satisfaction in how drained he was at the end of each session.

The last one had ended with Korrës pronouncing Prowl fit for combat duty and done with the basic lessons.

"Prowl: begins advanced training now," Soundwave said quietly, a flicker of concern in his field for his lover. Concern that Ravage apparently shared, if the feline's presence at Prowl's side was any indication.

"I thought this was the goal." Prowl commented, looking from one to the other. He was certainly not expecting the training to be easy, but surely there was no reason for the level of concern he was picking up from both of them.

"Affirmative," Soundwave agreed. "Soundwave: knows what 'advanced training' consists of. Prowl: will be hurt."

Sensor panels twitched in a shrug, not dismissive but practical. "I have been hurt before, and better here, when no one is trying to offline me, than out there were everyone is." He pointed out quietly.

"Affirmative," Soundwave replied. He wasn't even going to try to explain what it did to him to know Prowl was damaged.

Prowl opened the training room door in silence and took in the changes. There were weapons out for the first time; small blades, a shock rod and a simple beam and chain construct that when taken in context looked particularly unpleasant in its implications. There were also datapads on the table.

What hadn't changed was the focal point of calm in the room; Korrës meditating.

As he had grown accustomed to, Prowl walked to the platform and knelt before Korrës, matching the master's pose and trying to match his calm while Soundwave made himself comftorable in the corner.

"Are you prepared to face pain and master it?" Korrës' deep red visor lit and locked onto Prowl's golden optics.

Changes tucked away in his mind, Prowl took an extra moment to sweep the room for any changes that were not visible on the surface, and then to consider his answer.

He did not have to rush, so he did not. Pain, he had faced before and learned to fight his way through it as best as he could. His current knowledge led him to doubt that it could be mastered, but the mech before him had yet to lie or deceive him. So if he said it was possible then the possibility existed, and if he was presenting the option to Prowl then he most likely believed that Prowl could succeed.

And Prowl wanted it.

"I am."

"Good," Korrës nodded faintly. "What will you most likely be required to do while in pain?"

"Fight." Prowl responded instantly, sure of that answer. The times he had found himself injured and in pain were few and far between when he was not involved in some form of combat, and he needed to be able to defend himself and others.

"Think." He added a moment later, also sure of that answer. He was a tactician, a thinker even more than a fighter. He needed to be able to think while in pain, to find solutions and make plans.

"Focus." And divide his focus as needed between fighting and thinking.

The small smile that crossed Korrës' face was all the indication Prowl needed to know his master agreed and approved.

"We will begin in reverse order," Korrës said as he stood. "Focus is required to achieve the rest." He looked at Soundwave. "And _you_ will not tell him any of the answers."

"Soundwave: will not help Prowl," the host responded unhappily.

"It'll do him more good in the long run," Korrës said. "Stand up, Prowl. Spread your wings fully, as unprotected as they get by your frame."

Prowl stood and did as he was ordered, sensor panels flared full and wide despite everything that screamed at him that it was a bad idea. He was vulnerable now, open to any sort of attack and the rest of him went on high alert.

"The rules of this lesson are as simple as they are difficult to master," Korrës said as he walked over to pick up the shock baton. "One: hold your frame exactly as it is now. Two: make no sound. Three: do whatever is required to accomplish the first two rules. Failure is to begin again. Understood?"

Prowl nodded once and waited, still and resisting the urge to turn and look. Whatever was coming, he had already agreed to it.

A burst of electrical chaos that his systems interpreted as intense pain erupted against the back of his knee, though there was very little pressure to go with it.

A brief flinch despite the fact that Prowl knew the rules, and he caught himself quickly. This was bearable, if uncomfortable in the extreme. So was the second burst in the same location. His HUD recommended shifting his weight off his right leg. His battle computer recommended any of a dozen reactions he was not to follow.

The next burst was at his left hip from behind, strong enough to shock his valve.

The jerk was visible that time, Prowl choosing to clamp down on the cry of pain that threatened to escape him, choosing some victory over none as ripples of pain a spread through his entire frame.

A low hum sounded behind him as he forced his frame back to its original position, but he couldn't tell what the sound meant. He'd barely managed to recover when the next shock hit, this time directly against his valve cover.

He didn't fall, but it was a near thing as his entire frame shook and a whimper of pain escaped him. The pain pleasure _pain_ was too much to fight this time.

He was half-aware that Korrës stepped back, waiting for him to collect himself and process what had happened in silence.

He was trying to fight his way through the pain like he had before. But before there had always been something else that had demanded his attention right away, something that forced him to put the pain on hold or to route it somewhere else where it was less distracting.

Rerouting. Prowl straightened, forcing his frame back into the required stance as he grabbed on to that thought and inspected it, processor working furiously.

He was given time. Korrës was good at knowing when he was processing a lesson and when he was in idle mode.

Finally the thought tension drained from Prowl. He wasn't sure of the adjustments to his sensory input routing, but it was a start, and hopefully the right direction.

The next strike crackled down his entire spinal strut from right below his wing's sensor suite to his aft.

There was pain from this strike, stronger than the ones before, but this time Prowl only swayed. It hurt like the pit, but it didn't lay him out.

Considering that, Prowl tweaked the programming again, determination growing simply because he was still standing.

"Impressive," he heard murmured as Korrës moved, raking the shock baton across both sensor wings from tip to tip.

What should have been excruciating, utterly incapacitating, was now merely painful. Prowl's entire frame clenched as he refused to move his sensor wings away from the torture, already planning more alterations through the pain. He was given a moment, then a second raking going the other direction, this time pausing to send three intense pulses directly into the sensor suite between his wings.

Even his current modifications weren't enough to counter that, to keep him from crying out in pain, each pulse causing his wings to flinch and twitch since Prowl refused to move away.

Korrës stepped away again, allowing Prowl to recover and adapt.

The next strike to Prowl's wings was a pale shadow of the pain from the last blow, barely drawing a reaction from him, his last modifications only allowing the sensation of the pressure he still wanted and refused to move away from to come through. He recognized that the input was becoming scrambled, but there was nothing he could do about it. That was physical damage; burned out sensors and replays.

Then Korrës was in front of him, visor locked on his optics as the shock baton discharged a full-power burst directly against his codpiece.

Pressure, and warnings enough that Prowl knew as soon as he allowed his protocols to shift back to their proper network paths he was going to be in extreme pain if he did not get to Hook first.

But he didn't flinch. Didn't move. Offered no sound even as he fought the damage to his frame, stubborn determination filling in the gaps in his still imperfect alterations until he could streamline them to full effectiveness.

He was designed to learn, and given the chance learn quickly. He had the chance. And he was going to learn. Quickly.

He could _feel_ the approval and pleasure at his speed in adapting radiate from his master. He felt it from Soundwave too, though it was mixed with distress at his damage and the pain that would come.

This time Prowl saw the strike coming, was _meant_ to see it coming, as Korrës lifted the shock baton to his throat, pausing to let the implications sink in, and set the charge off.

Pain ripped through him, bypassing all of his alterations as Prowl's processors stuttered, the energy scrambling his pathways and abilities. His frame locked and then gave way, the Praxian sinking to his knees as he struggled to not fall completely. Refused to fall completely.

Intake and primary energon lines to his helm closed off. His secondary vents struggling to keep up with his needs. Yet Prowl managed to divert enough energy to reestablish some function the moment the baton was pulled back. His frame still refused to move, but he had enough power to record for later analysis.

When his optics came back on, Prowl became aware that Korrës had stepped away again, this time towards the weapon table where the shock baton was now resting.

Entire frame trembling, Prowl had just enough control to watch and wait, unsure if his lesson was at an end because he had failed, or if there was more to come.

"I'm impressed," Korrës said absently as he played with one of the daggers. "You've never had this training before?"

"No." Even the short admission made Prowl's vocalizer crackle with static as he watched the blade, already preparing for what was to come and stubbornly determined to see it through. He knew nothing would happen until he got to his pedes again, which gave him a conflicting goal. To manage to stand quickly and move on, but also to remain on his knees, down, until he'd recovered fully.

After a vorn he knew Korrës would give him that choice without comment either way.


	19. Battle of Hive City

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13 for violence  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Violence  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 19: Battle of Hive City<p>**

* * *

><p>Prowl rested contentedly on the berth, Jazz curled against his chassis after several pleasurable rounds of interfacing. Neither of them was anywhere near spent, but for a moment Prowl was content to savor the pleasant feelings still running through his frame.<p>

He had been worried that Jazz would not have followed again, his most recent move after several vorns of stability having happened rather abruptly. But the small silver mech had been waiting for him in his quarters when he had arrived late from his shift, prepared to take his lover's processors off the stress weighing on him.

Prowl nuzzled at Jazz, nipping and teasing at a sensor horn and smiling as he felt Jazz respond, engine revving and hands playing over the Praxian's chest plates suggestively. It had been a while since-

Harsh alarms cut through his thoughts, planning and pleasure, changing Prowl's though process instantly.

It put on clear display just how much Prowl had changed since becoming a Decepticon as well. Where as once he and Jazz would have had matching reactions - to cower in the corner and try to hide - Prowl was on his pedes and ready to fight with the calm readiness of a warrior with vorns of battlefield experience and a cool expectation that he's survive this as well.

"What's going on?" Jazz whimpered, looking towards the larger mech for direction and protection.

"Base is under attack." Prowl growled, already tapping into the appropriate communication networks for details as he sub-spaced the daggers and blaster that were always close at hand any more.

"I need to go." He turned to Jazz, stealing a moment for the mech he loved, reaching out to pull Jazz to him. "Autobots, I don't know the details. Stay here. I'll be back if I can."

Jazz captured his mouth in a frightened, desperate kiss. "I can hide from the law with the best of them," he said, though it had the ring of trying to ease Prowl's processors more than the truth. "You survive." He insisted as he let the Praxian go.

Prowl was silent as he laid a spare blade on the berth by Jazz. Even if the small mech didn't fight, a good blade had many uses. "I intend to." He growled softly, and was gone.

Jazz sat on the berth for a torturously long breem until he heard far more chaos than an unannounced drill could produce. Cautiously he climbed up the wall using his palm mags and loosened the vent cover so he could crawl in. With Soundwave on another base there was little likelihood of vent patrols, but as Jazz he had a good excuse to be in there right now - he was scared and hiding.

The sounds of fighting and chaos echoed through the vents, explosions, fighting, cries of pain, and then the sound of Prowl's voice in a lull, barking orders in a tone that he never used around Jazz. One that commanded respect and demanded obedience.

It was enough to make Jazz shiver in desire and struggle to focus on his sabotage mission. He continued to work his way through the vents until they became too cramped even for his small frame.

He focused inward and a shimmer of energy passed along his frame, lengthening his chassis and protoform, adding dozens of much shorter legs all along the serpentine frame and changing his helm into a vicious set of mandibles strong enough to crush many a frontliner's armor. He knew where he was going and could only pray that his current intel was correct and Shockwave was elsewhere.

The scientist's lab/workshop was a land of horrors that had to be destroyed.

Very few went knew what went on in there, only seeing the results that emerged and not really wanting to know how they were created. It was a subject even Prowl avoided once he had been informed it did not concern him.

Apparently Megatron was not troubled by method, only by result, since the lab was buried in the center of the base, well protected and well shielded.

Jazz, or rather Slitherquick, bit the air vent apart and climbed into the room before shifting into his favored form. The one living being in the room to watch stared in mute shock as the multi-legged serpent stood into a short black, white and gold Praxian with three sensor wing segments and a deep purple visor. Meister wasn't worried. He'd assessed the mech's condition before he'd even entered the lab and he knew a blaster to the spark was the best he could do to the poor mangled being that was barely more than a spark chamber, complete helm and critical systems.

It was quick and merciful, a kind end in light of what he had most likely suffered. The lab was organized, methodically so with individual project workstations and one central location for data storage.

Meister headed for the data chamber, withdrew a quick-copy unit and made short work of hooking it up and set it to work while he moved on to setting charges at the stations to make sure _nothing_ could be recovered from this place.

His thoroughness would certainly raise questions as to _how_ later, but since there would be no evidence left behind it hardly mattered. He was finished before the copy unit, the storage center a mass of information and a clue as to just how long Shockwave had been operating there. Meister took grim satisfaction in removing this laboratory of the obscene.

When the mass storage copier beeped its job completed Meister disconnected it and plugged himself into Shockwave's central control to upload half a dozen viral messengers, intended to shatter the scientific database and every system it was connected to.

With the data safely tucked in a special subspace that couldn't be accessed as Jazz, Meister made an easy leap to the duct opening, transforming into Slitherquick while he was at it to head for the brig.

The brig was one ring out from the labs, securely buried and serving a double purpose. It was extra cushion for times like this to protect the labs, and convenient access for Shockwave when he was in need of raw materials.

Meister grumbled to himself as he accessed the prisoner log. It was amazing the Cons could field such forces when half their brig was full of their own people _during_ a major assault on the base. With a grateful thought that the guards had been called on to defend the base, he began a systematic prowl through the complex ring of cells. Ones with all Decepticons were ignored, ones with all Autobots/Neutrals were opened and given a quick briefing on events and the way out that his fellow agents had prepared, those with mixed contents...

The short black, white and gold Praxian stopped in front of a cell and spread his three sensor wing segments as he took in the state of the Autobot and his two Decepticon cellmates. His deep purple visor locked on the Decepticons after assessing the condition of the Autobot.

The pair didn't seem to be in the best of shape themselves, but they were still much better off than their Autobot cellmate. The mech was barely functioning, even though on the surface his frame seemed intact.

The Decepticons shifted, optics moving from the identifying mark on the mech to weapon in his hand.

"So who's to thank for his state?" Meister nodded towards his faction mate.

Without comment both of the Decepticons blamed the other, fingers pointing and hoping that it would be enough that the intimidating mech would believe one of them.

"Good enough," Meister grumbled and fired one shot into each spark chamber before opening the cell to find out if the Autobot was going to survive or if he should be put down.

The mech in question was not as bad as he had first appeared, his weakness the result of low energy. The Decepticons, if they had been in there with the intent to torture, had not gotten very deep. Most of the damage was superficial, stripped and shredded plating and frayed wires the most visible damage.

Meister muttered wordlessly and took out a cube of energon from his subspace to hold it to the mech's mouth. "Drink."

::Blue Ghost, Black Death, status?:: he commed his companions who were supposed to be in the brig helping out.

::Three Cons still in cells, five Autobots and three Neutrals freed, two Autobots grayed,:: Mirage responded.

::Five, two, six and six,:: Whiplash added. ::Almost to you. Found our target yet?::

::Negative,:: Meister responded.

The mech drank greedily, gulping it down as fast as he could without a care as to what it might do to his systems.

When most of the cube was consumed and the mech's systems reasonably energized, Meister clicked for his attention. "Designation, function, cadre."

Reluctantly the mech stopped, optics revealing just how desperate he had been for the energon. "Designation: Reset. Function: Systems maintenance. Tyger Pax."

He waited, not entirely sure of his own fate at the moment. Same faction or not, the mech before had just executed two other mechs without so much as a hint of regret.

"Finish," Meister pressed the cube to his mouth again. "Your legs functional?"

"Functional enough." Was the reply, hope filling the mechs voice as he finished off the cube and Meister helped him stand. "Won't be very fast, but I can move. They hadn't gotten that far yet."

"Good. Take this route out," he data burst the base map and route that had been cleared and held. "I'll see if others can help, but no one's in good shape here."

A moment to analyze the data and Reset nodded in understanding, thankful for the fact that he even had a chance. Gathering his coordination he started for the door, pausing to lean on the doorframe, and looked back. "Thank you."

"Thank how much Prime values Lock Phase," Meister snorted as he moved on to the next cell. "He's why we're here in force enough to free everyone."

The next cell was a loss, containing two grayed frames, one either long forgotten or left as a warning to the other occupants of the cell block. With a shrug Meister moved on.

"Gotcha," he grinned as he spotted the single occupant of the next cell. "Lock Phase."

The lone occupant was restrained but otherwise in good condition, a novel sight in the Decepticon cellblock where even Decepticons didn't fare well.

"Either 'Wave been at you yet?" Meister asked as he worked the lock.

"No, but if the rumors and the taunting of the low bit excuses for guards are to be believed I was next on the list, as soon as one of them returned." Was the rather unimpressed response.

"Be glad they were occupied elsewhere," Meister told him as the door slid open and he strode smoothly in. Without preamble Meister took out a data cable from his wrist and plugged into a port on the back of Lock Phase's helm.

Lock Phases defenses were relatively light, and he didn't attempt to keep Meister out at all. He was telling the truth - captured and hauled around like a piece of cargo, but other than that kept in reasonable condition until he could be turned over to one of the intel masters.

After a few moments he shifted, looking to catch the other mechs attention. "You going to free me or not?"

"Yap," Meister said as he withdrew and unlocked the shackles. ::Got him and he's clean.:: he transmitted to the other agents. "Let's get out of here," he added as a shimmer became a light blue and white mech. "Go with Blue Ghost."

Lock Phase took a moment to unkink his joints, flexing them back into working order and staring openly at the mech that has magically appeared before him before setting off with a shrug. "Gladly. Anything to be free of here."

* * *

><p>Prowl slipped back through the base, avoiding ally and foe alike as he went along. The orders to retreat still carried across the communication lines he was monitoring, but for the moment he ignored them. He had already sent the mechs he had been leading on ahead, he was still not high enough in the scheme of command that his physical presence was required at the gather points just yet, and as soon as he collected Jazz he would join them.<p>

Reaching his quarters he keyed the door, scanning the room as he entered, and froze.

The room was empty.

Jazz was gone. The dagger was gone. No sign of a fight or even an Autobot investigation.

He stepped fully into the room and allowed the door to slid shut. A small sound caught his attention and lifted his optics and sensors towards the ceiling near the far wall.

"Prowl?" a tiny, frightened voice called out.

Training and habit had his finger resting on the trigger of his blaster as he scanned the direction of the sound. It sounded like Jazz, but until he was sure..."Jazz?"

Quiet, calm, the question delivered evenly and soothingly and hiding the first flickers of hopeful relief in Prowl.

The air vent was popped out, left hanging by a small silver hand and Jazz cautiously stuck his head out of the vent. His visor flared with relief when he saw Prowl and all but launched himself at the larger mech.

Prowl caught him easily, blaster stowed in nanoklik as hands ran over the smaller mech's frame in search of injury or damage and completely ignoring the fact that Prowl himself was scraped and dented, energon leaking from shrapnel wounds across his back and sensor wings as he checked Jazz over and held him.

"Interesting, if effective, hiding place."

"Told you I can hide with the best of them," Jazz shivered in relief before shifting to kiss his lover. "Do you need to see Hook, or just minor injuries?"

Prowl shifted his sensor wings so Jazz could see. "A visit to Hook will be in order eventually, but for now I believe it would be best if we move. We are abandoning the base to the Autobots and regrouping outside the city limits."

Jazz's visor flashed bright in fright. "You shouldn't have come back for me. The Autobots know I'm just a pleasurebot. They wouldn't hurt me," he tried to squirm down to land on his pedes. "My escapes are too small for you," he added quietly.

Prowl frowned both at the words and at the fright, releasing him to land gently. "I can make it back out again. They move slowly. And seem to have no problem hurting you when it suits them." The slightest bit of a growl there at the end, quickly controlled.

"Only when I'm paid for it, same as here," Jazz tried to soothe him, even if just to focus on the situation. "I'm a Neutral. You are most definitely not."

"I came back to make sure you were all right." A hint of personal pain crept into his voice. "I can leave you to make your own way if you prefer."

"No," Jazz shook his head sharply and reached up for a kiss. "I don't want to leave you. Just don't want you at more risk. Let's go, please."

Prowl kissed him, strong and deep, then pulled back. There was wisdom in Jazz's words, and sense in them as well. With a quick nudge at Jazz's helm he retrieved his sidearm and headed out again, pausing long enough to make sure the silver mech was following him.

Their route was thankfully mostly deserted, and the few that they did encounter were Decepticons that Prowl passed along the retreat orders to, directing them to make their own way out and instructions for after they were clear.

Part of his attention was always on the mech at his side, making sure he was safe and near at hand. He quickly realized he didn't need to worry. Though Jazz used some kind of sense to stay just outside of the range Prowl needed to move freely, the silver mech never went more than Prowl's arm's reach away. It seemed that Jazz did indeed have reasonable survival instincts, even if they weren't of the combat kind.

During the tension-filled trek to a back exit, Prowl noted that his dagger was in Jazz's hand. It wasn't held very well either. Perhaps enough if his opponent was just as clueless, but not against even an Autobot rookie.

"Here," Prowl paused and corrected Jazz's grip. "You'll want to strike upwards with both hands into a gap in the armor. A leg or pelvic seam."

"Or interface panel," Jazz looked at him with a grim kind of humor. "The cover's soft, thin and the sensor load is huge."

Sensor panels twitched at the suggestion even as Prowl nodded in approval and agreement. "And if it come down to it, leave the blade." He could do without the spares he carried. Jazz needed them more than he did.

Satisfied, Prowl turned his attention back to the exit, extending all of his senses as far beyond the opening as he could. There was little chance the Autobots had made it back here in force yet, but there was a reason that Prowl was still functioning as well.

Caution kept him so, and would serve well to keep the mech he was determined to protect functioning as well.

Ahead of them, a mech struggling to move down the corridor. Not leaking energon, but damaged and weak.

Tension filled Prowl as he identified the stranger's faction, then eased some as the rest of his readings came back. The mech between them and the exit was barely able to stay upright, and certainly in no condition to offer them any harm.

He glanced back at Jazz, weighing his options quickly as his spark and functioning argued with his orders. He saw the silver mech making his own calculations and come to a decision.

"He can't hurt us in that condition," Jazz glanced up at his lover. "Take him as a shield or leave him be, knock him out?"

"Leave him." Prowl decided quietly, moving again with the intent to avoid the injured mech. "The base is lost and we are most likely close to the last out. His own will find him soon enough, if he waits."

Which meant that they needed to be on the move, since being discovered was the last thing Prowl wanted or needed. Jazz might be immune to their wrath, but he was certainly not.

And he had no evidence that said that the silver minibot would be safe if they were to find him in Prow's immediate company. Prowl's own faction seemed to feel little grief over 'collateral damage' when the target was valuable.

The emergency exit had been blown open from the inside, likely by a Decepticon that couldn't get it open fast enough. One step into the outside world and Prowl froze again. His sensor wings flared and swept, trying to pinpoint the sensor ghost that set his nerves on edge.

"Come on," Jazz tried to get him to move.

"Someone out there." Prowl growled softly by way of explanation, the presence tickling his sensors not one he recognized as he scanned the area again. So close to relatively safety it was enough to cause frustration if Prowl had been willing to allow it to distract him.

Optics swept the battered landscape as his sensors finally settled on a general direction of the threat, and his tactical computer provided a mostly covered way to work around the threat.

"This way." He instructed, touching Jazz just enough to guide the smaller mech so that Prowl's larger and combat ready frame was between the silver mech and the possible threat.

Jazz nodded and followed the subtle directions flawlessly. He may not be combat trained but he _was_ programmed and highly trained to read and respond to a client's desires and subtle signals.

The entire walk was tense but uneventful, and it turned out to be Jazz whose optic sweep picked up the Decepticons ahead of them first.

Prowl responded instantly to Jazz's first sign he needed the mech's attention, his own optics sweeping over those gathered, ranking those present in his head and trying to determine who was in charge. With a sinking sensation he quickly realized that aside from a couple competent _enlisted_ squad leaders, he was it.

He had not been the senior officer on base before and what was before him was just a step above chaos. Prowl wasn't CTO for nothing, however, and while personnel and field command might not be his function, _organizing_ definitely was.

What this group needed now more than anything was organization and planning.

Prowl set his processors to the task, pushed his vocalizer to max and gave the sharp three-tone whistle that demanded attention. While he was privately pleased compliance came quick with mechs facing him and little hint of a challenge to his fully spread sensor wings, none of that showed in his stance, features or voice.

"All Decepticons, join your cadres in formation _now_," he bellowed, doing a fair impression of Megaton. "Any cadre with less than three members, front and left."

His attention split without effort, a small part focused on keeping track of his lover, part of it focused forward to make sure that his orders were being followed correctly, and a great deal given to what to do next.

They had to move out of here before the Autobots reached them, for Prowl had no doubt they were coming, if for no other reason than to finish leveling the base. And by default it seemed that it was now his responsibility to get everyone away and the to closest Decepticon held territory.

"What's the plan of attack?" one of the squad leaders, Tempest if Prowl's files were correct, half asked, half demanded.

"Retreat, as ordered." Prowl responded smoothly taking a quick count as he answered. "Quickly and orderly to join up with the rest of our forces."

Twenty-six, including himself and Jazz. Twenty-six out of nearly two hundred.

12% survivors. Easily the worst defeat in Decepticon history.

"If a superior officer doesn't show up soon, you're going to take the blame for this mess," Jazz whispered, his voice full of dread for Prowl as the more compliant cadres began to move out as directed.

Prowl kept his optics trained on the others, sensor wings giving the briefest of shrugs. It had to be done, one way or another. "It will not be the first time."

Jazz's field brushed against his, expressing what the minibot didn't dare to out loud as Prowl's glare got Tempest to move out. Fear, grief, regret... "I hope I see you again, Prowl."

The Praxian's field flared in response as soon as the others were far enough away, filled acceptance, duty, matching hope of his own and quiet confidence.

"Be well Jazz." Prowl responded quietly, the full wish of his spark behind it, as he set off after his charges while Jazz slipped away to blend into the city and the civilians he technically was one of.


	20. Constructicon Courting

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Constructicons, sorta  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 20: Constructicon Courting<p>**

* * *

><p>The small part of Prowl's processor noted just how long it took him to boot up, each system coming online slowly. The reason was not hard to determine, since the last memory he had stored was Megatron coming at him, clearly not pleased with the report that Prowl had given him, or the maddenly calm way the Praxian had stood there and taken the first several blows without flinching.<p>

A quick internal diagnostic scan informed him that despite the extensive damage that had been inflicted he was already repaired and able to resume normal functioning after refueling. Satisfied with his findings, Prowl allowed the rest of his senses to come online, optics focusing finally and sending a jolt through him.

He had fully expected to come around in a repair bay with a lecture close at hand, or in whatever served as Soundwave's quarters with his lover nearby. The location he found himself in was clearly neither. It wasn't a location he'd ever seen before.

The mechs about though, he knew them.

Hook and Scraper were closest, working on something together - a new mech frame - but only giving it part of their attention. The pair were really focused on Prowl. Further away was Mixmaster, brewing up something - high grade from the scent. Bonecrusher, Long Haul and Scavenger were not in sensor range, though he had little doubt they were nearby.

Sitting up slowly, Prowl spread his sensor panels, working the stiffness from them and scanning the surrounding area as he did so. The room looked like the main room of a gestalt's private quarters, not a common workshop, and that alone was enough to put him on guard.

Outwardly calm, Prowl turned his attention on Hook, the one of the gestalt that he was most familiar with. "I would assume it is to you I owe thanks for putting me back together again?"

"Always," the Constructicon nodded with a small grin as he turned to come over. "Welcome to Constructicon headquarters, such as it is. Megatron's still raging about the loss of Hive City. You weren't safe there, especially not with Soundwave still on his mission."

"Then it sounds as though additional thanks are in order as well." Prowl relaxed a bit. "He took it as poorly as I recall."

"Very poorly," Hook agreed. "I'd prefer you remain here until he's finished raging."

"What a time for Soundwave to be away," Mixmaster grumbled. "Megatron might be unstable, but he _usually_ manages to keep the worst of it under control."

Prowl settled into a comfortable sitting position as he ran more extensive diagnostics and once again acknowledged the need to fuel. He was not critical yet and there were other things demanding his attention that were of high priority at the moment. Like the pattern he had noticed to Megatron's mood and the way it had slowly been changing over the vorns.

A pattern he had yet to say anything about to anyone else, especially when he was not sure of their intentions.

He noticed Mixmaster walking over, giving an exasperated look at the other two Constructicons.

"Here," the big mech shoved an energon cube towards Prowl. "Those two would forget their helms if they weren't welded on at the moment."

"Thank you." Sensor wings flicked in amusement and acknowledgment, Prowl simply thankful to be away from the leader of the Decepticons and any immediate threat of physical harm.

He started on the cube, taking the time to openly study his surroundings before his optics came back to settle on Hook's current project. "What are you working on?"

Scrapper nearly jumped at the question, his armor flaring slightly before he caught himself, earning him a snort from Mixmaster as the mech walked off to his own project.

"We're attempting to build a new gestalt," Hook answer with distinct pride in his voice as he stepped slightly to the side so Prowl could see the small frame they were working on. It wasn't much larger than Rumble or Frenzy. "Three microbots that form a camera."

Prowl hummed thoughtfully. The actual mechanical aspects were beyond him, but even from here he could see the detail and the quality of the work. Well familiar with Hook's skill he would expect nothing less.

"Drink," Scraper pointed at the energon cube Prowl hadn't yet started. "We'll show you to your quarters."

A low snicker came from Mixmaster's corner.

The Praxian looked up but started in on the energon his systems were insisting they needed. If nothing else this would prove a good time to try to understand the Constructicons better. If they were willing to allow him to stay here and away from Megatron he had no intention of arguing. He just hoped that the two in front of him, watching him, weren't planning to take advantage of the situation too much. Prowl could never completely forget that they were both on the list of mechs Soundwave had said were _interested_ in him.

So he listened to Hook talk about the project, noting that the perfectionist was making some effort to keep it to fields that Prowl understood. Particularly the anticipated tactical value, which was of great interest to Prowl. His planning and battle computers were already inventing missions for the gestalt provided they worked out and came online with agreeable programming. He even took the liberty of asking questions as he refueled, some of them clarification or requests for more detail of the explanations he was being given, other straying into neutral topics that were not overly distracting.

Finally he finished the cube, systems settling into running contently and efficiently now that they were properly energized. As Prowl stood, Scraper shattered what ease the three had managed to generate.

"How are things working out with Soundwave?"

The Praxian's entire posture shifted subtly, doorwings acquiring a level of formal control and poise as he turned to look at Scrapper, golden optics and tone as he spoke all suddenly closed. "Very well, thank you."

Hook's hand came down from where he was about to cuff Scrapper _hard_, Mixmaster went abruptly silent as he turned to look at Prowl, but it was Scrapper's look of unconvinced concern that set off the most warnings in Prowl's battle computer.

Prowl met all of their optics directly, posture not shifting a bit and at least on the surface not at all phased or affected by the sudden level of tension in the room.

"Ignore them," Hook tried to salvage things first. "Come on, I'll show you to your quarters while you're here."

"That would be appreciated." Prowl answered, transferring his attention from one to the other smoothly, though his answer was just as cold.

Inwardly he was wondering how much he was going to be able to recharge and if there was any way to lock his quarters against the Constructicons in their own base. He found himself longing for the security of knowing that one of the symbiots was close at hand, a comfort he was just now realizing he had started to take for granted.

He wanted his lovers now, for the protection and comfort they offered as well as the peace they brought to his spark, for even if Jazz was a non-combatant his was safety in his own way, so constantly aware and in tune with his environment.

"No one's going to force you into anything here," Hook said evenly, his professional demeanor firmly in place as the door to the common room closed behind them. "You aren't required to stay. I would like you to, however."

The opportunity to rest was a welcome one, and Prowl really had no place else to go at the moment. He could move on to one of the other bases, could go in search of Soundwave, but there was no guarantee he would be able to figure out where the host was, much less catch up with him if he was busy.

And if Megatron was still blaming Prowl for the loss of Hive City it was in Prowl's best interest to stay away from him until the large mech was distracted by something else and no longer focused on taking his frustration out on his tactician.

The formal slipped some as Prowl focused himself, pushing the idea that there was any threat to him here to the edge of his processor for the moment. When he spoke again it was easier, some of it probably brought on by only being in Hook's presence now, and trusting this particular mech more than other members of his gestalt. "A place to stay until I am no longer a target is appreciated, but if it is going to cause problems I shall begin looking to move on as soon a possible."

"It won't be a problem," Hook insisted as he showed Prowl along one of the corridors that led from the common room. "We've seen the results of Soundwave's processor work a few times. It's a lot like what you just did as his programming takes over."

That explained a great deal, and Prowl's sensor wings finally settled to a normal level as he followed Hook. "Then you may stop worrying. The choice to stay with him is my own."

While it might not completely stop the advances, Prowl hoped the admission might at least tone them down some. He was staying here to recover, not fight another battle on a different front.

"You'll forgive the disappointment some mechs have at that," Hook said. "He is a powerful protector, but he is not the only one who wants you."

"A fact I have discovered, and done my best to handle." Prowl responded, even if handling it was improving his own skills so that he had the power to back up the 'no', or doing his best to avoid situations similar to this one where he found himself in the middle of so many who seemed to want him. "As that may be, I am content where I am now and have no desire to change that."

Hook nodded, but Prowl had little doubt the mech wasn't entirely pleased.

"Content to share Soundwave's berth, but not his protection if the damage I keep repairing is any indication," Hook chuckled a bit as he tapped in a door code for Prowl to see. "I don't think you want to be the weak one ever again."

The code was stored away, along with an intent to see if he could change it, despite Hook's assurance that Prowl's refusal of any advances would be respected during his stay.

Prowl would be the first to defend Soundwave, the host doing his best to protect Prowl from damage. But as much as it hurt him the large mech was also practical enough to admit that there were things he could not protect Prowl from, and trusting enough to let Prowl deal with them himself. And so Prowl was determined to be worthy of that trust.

"No. I cannot afford to be. And there are things I must learn on my own." Sensor wings twitched slightly as the memory of his most recent repairs rose to the surface. "And some things that cannot be avoided."

"Not as a Con," Hook agreed as Prowl looked into the room he was offered.

A single berth, large and padded for his sensor wings but not large enough to be intended for two, much less three dominated half the space, while the other half was dominated by a tactical center so Prowl could keep up on his work. It looked like _his_ Prowl realized as he gave it a more detailed look, right down to the marks Jazz had made in it that one time.

That was enough to make him pause again, a severe questioning look directed at Hook as Prowl once more considered exactly how long he wanted to stay.

"Prowl and no work is bad mix," Hook pointed out. "You'd go still-crazy in an orn and we all know it. So we brought your workstation."

What Hook said was true. Prowl needed something to occupy his time with, and if this was actually his workstation as it appeared to be he could just as easily and effectively from here as he could from anywhere else. "Impressive. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Hook said, taking a step backwards. "You should recharge, but light work won't drain you."

Prowl nodded in agreement with both assessments, checking the reading on his energy level and realizing that he was in need of rest more than he had originally thought. "Yes. Thank you."


	21. A Crack Becomes a Chasm

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Violence  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (anhrefn-hyfryd .livejournal .com/22919 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 21: A Crack Becomes a Chasm<p>**

* * *

><p>Hook nearly slammed into Prowl's quarters four orns after Prowl had woken in the Constructicon base, his momentum almost taking the door out as it failed to open fast enough.<p>

"Grab your weapons," he snapped in full cadre commander mode. "We're attacking Iacon."

Prowl was already in motion before his processor caught up completely with Hook's words. He didn't stop getting ready, but he did start asking questions before the Constructicon leader could leave.

Even if the initial question wasn't terribly intelligent. "We are doing what?"

"Attacking Iacon," Hook snapped. "Megatron's orders and your plan from the look of it."

That drew a frown from Prowl as he subspaced his knives and checked the charge on his blaster. He had been working on a plan, per Megatron's orders, to take over Iacon. Had in fact submitted a working draft, heavy with recommendations including pinpointing specific targets, just the orn before. But-

"That plan is metacycles away from being complete, and was meant as a contingency, not immediate use."

The Constructicon shrugged. It rather said it all. This was Megatron. Unstable was a fact of functioning, even if no one could pinpoint when his sanity began to unravel, much less why.

"Ready." Prowl said, falling into the center of calm that vorns of martial arts training with Korrës had developed. The rest of his processor was already devoted to reviewing the plan, working on alterations from the gaps and flaws he already knew to exist.

"How long do we have?"

"If we hurry, we might be there before the Senate surrenders," Hook said as he transformed and rolled for the exit at full speed to join the other Constructicons. ::Attack is already underway.::

Prowl swore to himself, practically riding the Constructicons aft out the door. He was already not liking the way this battle was shaping up.

Reaching a decision he sent Hook a short message with his intent and sped ahead, out of sight in a matter of seconds.

That he had nearly a joor to brood on the frantic drive to Iacon, having left the Constructicons far, far behind. A joor full of increasingly bad news even though the Decepticons were making deep, fast inroads on the capitol.

The only good thing from Prowl's perspective was that this attack was significant enough to bring Soundwave to the front lines once more. His calm, even voice broadcasting commands nearly as fast as Prowl could processes was an intense relief.

He hit the edge of the city, broadcasting an ID as soon as he did in an attempt to avoid being caught in any sort of friendly fire and to see if there were any specific orders regarding his part in the battle.

Not bothering to wait for actual direction Prowl started working his way through to the front line of scrimmage, pinpointing Soundwave as a goal. A focus he found he needed as his optics took in the sheer destruction all around him. He'd seen enough battles now to know there was only one order that could produce the sheer civilian casualties he was now witness to: leave nothing alive.

It was an order he objected to, even intentionally ignored and didn't pass on, when the target was a military _base_, but this ... this was a _city_. Even as the seat of the imperial government less than five percent of the population could be classified as Autobots, even using the loosest definition Prowl could muster.

These ... creators killed in front of their sparklings, futilely trying to defend the young sparks that were extinguished only a few nanokliks later. Grayed and shattered frames of artists, merchants, scholars ... all lightly armored, none meant to survive this kind of trauma, lay everywhere between shattered buildings.

It shook the Praxian to his core, his entire base programming screaming in protest along with his spark, for once the two in perfect agreement.

This was wrong.

It tore at him and he sped up, making reaching Soundwave his goal now, deliberately skirting active combat, working his way through the destruction quickly as he struggled to make sense of what was going on around him.

None of this had been in his plan, the entire attack arranged in such a way as to strike armed defense stations with the precision he knew the seekers were capable of while the ground forces subdued the Senate and took over the palace to capture the Prime.

Civilian casualties, while inevitable, should have been kept to an absolute minimum.

This ... this was _targeting_ the civilian population.

~Calm, my Prowl,~ Soundwave's mind finally reached out to him as he came in range of his lover. ~It will be over soon.~

Prowl latched on to the calm, not understanding how Soundwave could maintain such a level of control in the face of all this death and destruction.

Prowl's emotions did not rule him. He did not, even now, display any outward sign of the turmoil in his spark. That did not stop the fact that his spark was in _pain_.

Finally Soundwave came into view and Prowl made his way to the host's side, settling into to provide protection, monitoring the battle communication and prepared to contribute where he could, even as he reached out to Soundwave seeking a why.

~Soundwave: away too long. Megatron: insanity broke control programs faster than Soundwave anticipated. This: Megatron's uncontrolled state.~

The implications of that explanation were disturbing, adding to Prowl's distress as his tactical computer offered several suggestions to taking down a pocket of resistance reported on one of the Decepticon bands.

Picking the one most likely to succeed from the information he had Prowl relayed it to Soundwave and set to work on the next problem, detaching himself from the sheer wrongness as best as he could in an attempt to maintain his own sanity.

~What do we do?~

~Focus forces on valid targets. End this battle quickly. Take control of Megatron.~ Soundwave listed his priorities.

~The Constructicons are on their way.~ Prowl informed him, sinking deeper into planning and coordination mode as he struggled to find a way to bring the battle to a quick resolution. ~Where is Megatron?~

~Leading the main force assaulting the Senate and Prime's Palace,~ Soundwave answered, most of his focus on blocking and coordinating various comm traffic.

~How close are they?~ Prowl asked, directing some of his attention to listen into those lines specifically. ~If they fall fast enough maybe we can justify ending the attack.~

Or maybe Prowl would see about trying to arrange some sort of tactical excuse to call an end without Megatron's express approval. It would certainly bring the Decepticon leaders wrath down on Prowl, but it was a price the Praxian considered worth it.

Especially since it seemed like he spent most of his time on Megatron's bad side anyway.

A queasy feeling, a wild rebellion of the spark and horror was all Soundwave could pass on for a too-long moment, the host's processors actually stalled by whatever he'd just learned.

Prowl reached out, not understanding but offering whatever support he could, taking the feeling that was overflowing into him and processing it through as he literally leaned into the larger mech.

~What?~ He pleaded softly, letting the battle fade to secondary as he focused his primary attention on Soundwave. ~Tell me.~

~My Lord Prime,~ Soundwave trembled, his mental voice weak with shock that was slowly morphing into a mixture of rage and guilt. ~Sentinel Prime: Murdered.~

That statement shook Prowl as his processor tried to wrap around the idea that the Prime was dead. Even to someone as far removed as he had been the idea was disturbing.

As troubling as that was, his own distress did not hold his attention for long. As confused as he was by his lover's reaction, it did nothing to diminish the emotion from Soundwave or Prowl's response.

He extended his sensors outward, automatically acting to guard them both against attack as sent love and support into the larger mech until Soundwave could gather himself. It was a process that took longer than it should have based on Prowl's limited experience with Soundwave and trauma. It also gave the Autobots a sudden advantage as Soundwave's control of the comm frequencies faltered.

Another comm-specialized host tore into the frequencies, asserting his own dominance and locking it down before Soundwave could recover.

What little Prowl could now gather was from Autobot frequencies as they were rallied with words of vengeance for a murdered Senate and civilians, but no word about the murdered Prime.

It was working; Decepticons required constant and firm control to maintain anything resembling order and all hint of that was gone now.

"Decepticons: Retreat!" Soundwave suddenly roared, using the full power of his telepathy and his comm suite to reach as many Decepticons as possible.

Retreat.

Prowl pulled up plans already complete, formulated during his drive to Iacon in case-

Well, this exact circumstance was not something even he had considered as a possibility. But the idea that they would meet enough resistance to turn them back had, and he pushed a plan at Soundwave.

~Transmit this one. It details pre-determined routes and will divide our forces among still secure strongholds, improving the chance of survival.~

~Soundwave: will try.~ the host promised, still shaken to his core. He stood still, broadcasting on secure frequencies and his telepathy when he could, focusing on contacting cadre leaders.

Even as Prowl began to transform when the transmission was done, he realized that Soundwave hadn't moved. The big mech wasn't even trying as he stood on a high point, in the open, a high-value target for any Autobot who got close.

Reverting to root mode, all of his sensors at their strongest, Prowl pushed at Soundwave physically as he shoved his field at the mech. "We're done. Move."

~My Prime,~ Soundwave repeated, chaotic flickers of emotions, thoughts, sensations trickled through the thought. ~Soundwave: should not meet the next Prime.~

"There haven't been any other reports about him." Prowl pointed out, speaking aloud in another attempt to distract his lover, to break him out this loop that he didn't understand. Hoping that this would work. He had one more trick to try before his last resort of attempting to physically drag the mech before him from the battlefield. "Maybe they lost him. We can find out when we are safe."

It seemed to help, a little. Soundwave looked down at Prowl and love mixed with sadness flowed freely from him. "Symbiots first."

"Agreed." Prowl tugged at his arm gently, glad that he had not had to resort to trying to guilt the mech into action. "But they can join up with us under cover just as easily as here in the open."

He leaned into press against Soundwave for just a moment, his own love and desperate worry projected clearly. ~Come out of the open, please.~

Large arms reached out to embrace Prowl as Soundwave nodded, then forced his uncooperative frame into motion, able only to focus on his lover for direction. If he didn't allow his processors to wander much further, they wouldn't meet the crippling pain of _LOSS_.

Prowl kept one hand on the large mech, leading him to a place sheltered enough as they waited for the last of the symbiots to return. Settling Soundwave behind the barrier he reached out, in physical and field contact continuously, burying his worry at the condition of his lover and concern for the future as he stood watch until the last of the symbiots, a badly damaged Frenzy, was dragged in by Rumble.

* * *

><p>The moment he was out of Blaster's comm shutdown Prowl was assaulted by horrible news on all fronts. Retreating forces were being hunted, hounded, cornered and slaughtered with a viciousness that shocked even the Decepticons giving the reports and demanding help. The command element was virtually absent. Megatron was either extinguished or still in the city. Starscream was too focused on his Seekers to care about anyone else. Soundwave was just barely holding on to his ability to keep moving. Shockwave never was in battle, it wasn't his function for all he was terrifying in combat.<p>

Once more a catastrophic retreat was dropped on Prowl's shoulders.

The Praxian buried his frustration, this being neither the time nor the place for such emotion no matter how justified, as he turned to Ravage for help. "Keep him moving?"

It wasn't safe to stop, not with the Autobots out for revenge, but this demanded his attention as well. If the symbiot was willing to try and keep her host moving in the general direction of safety Prowl could focus on helping the others.

"We'll try," the feline promised and took over pressing her master forward.

Prowl took a moment, correlating all of the data and improvising an overall plan in response.

Responses that were promptly directed over the comms to those free of the blocks, Prowl taking control and giving orders that allowed no argument. His original plans no longer worked, too many having fallen victim to vengeance or still out of touch where he could not reach them. Prowl was forced to plan on the fly, reducing the number of strongholds and directing mechs to those easiest to reach as he managed to begin forming order from the chaos.

This was, tactically, as bad for the Decepticons as it was for the Autobots in Prowl's opinion. Both sides had lost great numbers, had likely lost key command officers and the Autobots had been handed a _reason_ to take this war entirely too seriously. If the Prime was really extinguished, it could be a crippling blow, or it could be the greatest propaganda item the Autobots could ask for.

'Fight against the traitors to Primus, the outlaws who killed the Prime!'

A battle cry to strengthen them before they had a new Prime to rally around. For unlike his own faction, the Autobots would have a strong leader again soon. The Matrix of Leadership would ensure that.

He stopped, already trailing the symbiot and her charge by a considerable distance, and forced himself to look back. The carnage tore at his spark all over again, his powerful processor filling in images that he had managed to 'not see' during his walk, so occupied had he been by other things.

Now he swayed on his feet as they rushed over him, and it was a struggle to regain control for a moment. Finally he returned to his intended task, comparing the numbers of those who had checked in against his estimation of those who had participated in the attack.

The result was pitiful, but enough that Prowl made the decision that there was no reason for him to remain behind any longer. There were other tasks that were more important than a few stragglers that might have a better chance of making it without his interference.

Satisfied as much as he could be, Prowl turned and hurried to catch up.

A light touch on Soundwave as he announced his their destination to the large mech and the determined symbiot still trying to herd her master in the direction Prowl had indicated. At the question look the Praxian shrugged his doorwings in a tired gesture of almost surrender.

"They will not stop until they are sure they have caught or eliminated every Decepticon in the area. If there are some that have not made it out yet they are on their own. We have functioning damaged to see to, and plans of our own to make to prepare for when they attack."

For attack they would, Prowl had no doubt. It would likely be sloppy, disorganized from the loss of their leader and government and the rise of a new Matrix chosen guide. But it would be rage fueled, and sometimes that was all the advantage the other side needed, if a cooler head could be found to shepherd it.

"We need to rest." A glance at Soundwave, Prowl finally allowing his deep concern to show, deeper than his own exhaustion and need to refuel. "And at least try to be ready."

"Black Echo: formidable commander." Soundwave managed to drag himself into the here and now enough to join Prowl in conversation while they rested. "Ultra Magnus: formidable commander. Autobots: not lacking in practical, focused officers."

A quick check of his records revealed details, at least all of the ones the Decepticons had managed to gather and that Prowl was privy to, on both of the mechs that Soundwave had mentioned. He moved so he was touching the larger mech, offering comfort in a manner that always seemed to bring him some, as he responded.

"Neither of them seem likely to initiate a full scale assault, but both appear perfectly capable of channeling the energy of others into such an endeavor."

"Agreed," Soundwave murmured, leaving into the touch.

For moment Prowl was silent, hands running over what he could reach of the larger mechs plating in a soothing manner, offering in a glance at Ravage in an invitation to join them and share. It was an offer she accepted quickly, pressing into Prowl's hand, side and field gratefully. They needed to move again soon, but Prowl needed them all capable of moving.

The destination he had picked out was not his first choice, others being better defended, but it was the closest one, and reaching any place of potential safety was highest on Prowl's list of priorities at the moment.

Hating to ask but deeming it necessary after only a breem Prowl spoke. "Can you move?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave said as he stood. While his field still bled numbing shock mingled with rage, the mech seemed far more steady. "Safety: priority. Frenzy: requires extensive repairs."

Satisfied, Prowl gathered himself and scanned the landscape before setting out at pace they could all hopefully maitain. "Then it's best we get moving."


	22. Chaos

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Constructicons  
><strong>Rating<strong>:  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover,  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (anhrefn-hyfryd .livejournal .com/22919 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 22: Chaos<p>**

* * *

><p>They weren't his quarters, or even their quarters, but Prowl wasn't sure he had ever been more thankful for a retreat as he let himself in the room that technically served as both now.<p>

His entire frame slumped, struggling to remain upright. Determination, pure stubbornness, and more refined energon than was good for him had seen him through the last few orns, and Prowl was paying the price now.

It was estimated that everyone who had survived the attack had finally checked in, and as acting commander it had been up to Prowl to determine who was where and reset the chains of command among their forces appropriately. Things were still shaky, and the Praxian was thankful that the Autobots still seemed to be at least as disorganized as his own faction, with no rumor of an immediate attack coming in through the information networks.

Megatron had been recovered, severely damaged but still functioning, and even now rested under induced stasis in Hooks rather irritated, if still professional and skilled, care. The medic estimated at least several orns worth of work before he would even consider lifting the stasis, and possible several more after that before he would be willing to release the Decepticon leader.

All of that Prowl processed and stored away as his attention focused on the other occupants of the small room. His lover was finally functioning somewhat close to normal, though the flickers of distress that Prowl picked up on when in the host's presence, a place the Praxian had been far less than he wanted to be in the recent orns, were troubling.

Especially since Prowl still did not have a reason for the meltdown, a fact most troubling and one he wanted settled before attempting recharge, despite the protests of his systems at the prospect of remaining online that much longer.

"Prowl: needs recharge," Soundwave stood, shaky himself from orns of little more than energon and determination maintaining him through repairing his symbiots and struggling with his spark, coding, oaths and personal desires.

"So do you." Prowl commented quietly, crossing the room to join his lover.

"Affirmative," Soundwave murmured, gathering Prowl in his arms and holding him close. "Soundwave and Prowl: recharge together?"

Prowl nodded in agreement, taking comfort in simply being held for a moment before pulling back. "Soon. Fuel first." He pulled the energon he had brought with him from his subspace and finally looked up to meet the host's gaze. "And answers."

Soundwave seemed to deflate slightly, then gathered himself and accepted the cube, though he made some effort to keep Prowl close. "Terms: agreed to."

Content with the compliance Prowl nodded in the direction of the berth questioningly, and accepted the kiss Soundwave placed on his mouth before the host stood and walked with him to settle on the berth. Without a single word, the symbiots gathered with them. Ravage curled against Prowl's side and dropped her head on his lap. Laserbeak settled across his shoulders and pressed close. Buzzsaw and the twins snuggled close to Soundwave as the cubes of energon were shared until everyone had their fill.

"Prowl: ask questions," Soundwave prompted, holding the Praxian close.

The Praxian sighed, helm leaning against the larger mech as he tried to compose everything that had been troubling him into coherent questions.

"Why?" He whispered quietly, begging for understanding. He knew of Soundwave's functioning, of his former occupation. But wasn't the overthrow of the Prime's rule the entire reason they had been fighting? Why had Soundwave frightened him like that, been so willing to stop living? Weren't those who depended on him reason to continue living? Wasn't Prowl, whom Soundwave professed to love, reason to continue living?

"Why?"

"The Lord Prime Sentinel: not the cause of suffering. Senate, corruption: cause of suffering," Soundwave struggled to explain. "Soundwave: never anticipated The Lord Prime would perish. Soundwave: still carries full High Priest coding."

Prowl didn't understand completely, and he allowed it to show. He didn't know how to comfort Soundwave. Didn't know how he could comfort his lover. And because he didn't understand he had no idea what to do now.

"High Priests: code-bonded to the Lord Prime." Soundwave attempted to explain. "Code-bond: nearly as painful as a spark bond when broken. Disorienting. Distressing. Terrible failure. Soundwave: traitor to Soundwave's code-bonded. Soundwave: grieving. Prowl's presence: comfort."

The Praxian shuddered, fitting his frame as close as he could with a willingness to give whatever Soundwave wanted, words and actions snapping into painful clarity even if he had never experienced the true depth of a bond.

"And now?" He asked softly, afraid of the answer he was going to receive, haunted still by Soundwave's pain and hopelessness.

"Soundwave: recovering," the mech wrapped an arm around Prowl and held him close, their entwined fields mingling with pain, grief, support and gratitude. "Soundwave: mission incomplete. Soundwave: must survive. Prowl: worth surviving for."

Comfort flooded Prowl at the assurance that he was important to the host. So relieved that it took a moment for the rest of Soundwave's words to sink into to his tired processor. "Mission?"

All six members of the symbiot-host bond went still, focused on each other, on some debate Prowl was not privy to.

With a shudder, Soundwave seemed to settle something inside. "Soundwave: still High Priest."

Prowl stared at him, uncomprehending. Of course Soundwave was- it was his functioning no matter his current occupation. Just as Prowl, at his most basic level, was a servant of order and planning. Wasn't he?

With a determined flicker in his field, Soundwave tried again. ~Soundwave: still servant to the Lord Prime.~

For the second time in less than a joor the pieces snapped into place again for Prowl, throwing what little mental equilibrium he had managed to regain into chaos once more.

For several kliks it was all he could do to work through that Soundwave had just told him, the implications pushing his processor to the limit. Finally he relaxed against the larger mech, accepting even if he was still confused. ~Then why are you here?~

~Mission: incomplete,~ came first, but was almost overridden by the next thought. ~Prowl: here.~

~Mission? What mission?~ Prowl begged, distressed as his emotional turmoil started to get the better of him. He knew he needed to recharge, his control slipping faster the longer they talked.

~Shu,~ Soundwave tried to sooth him. ~Mission: discredit, disrupt, destroy the rebellion.~

~Destroy the rebellion...~ Prowl repeated, shaking as he tried to process Soundwave's part in a something that he was supposedly trying to take down. It hurt. It was confusing.

And it cast all of Prowl's own doubts in a new light.

~Prowl: trust Soundwave?~ the question came with hesitance, from a telepath that had gone to some pains not to read his lover's thoughts deeper than the surface.

~Yes.~ Prowl answered, the matching conviction of the truth there clear on all levels. A moment later he felt Soundwave move a bit deeper into his processors, entwining them firmly, before the host opened up a series of memory files for Prowl to witness.

The terror-awe the first time Soundwave saw the Lord Prime Sentinel. That it was because the Lord Prime had summoned him.

The trembling joy-shock-fear Soundwave felt when the Lord Prime bid him to rise and told him of his plans. That he wished to elevate Soundwave to the priesthood with an optic to making him the first host High Priest in remembered history.

The orn the Lord Prime Sentinel came to him with a grave expression and asked if he would do the unthinkable for his Prime. If Soundwave would publicly renounce all that had been done for him, all Soundwave had earned, and join the brewing rebellion led by the former miner, Megatron.

Terror. Denial. _I can not_. Understanding. Comprehension. Obedience.

All before the Lord Prime Sentinel could processes that anything was going on.

The first meeting with Megatron. The turmoil of knowing the rebel was _right_.

Hundreds of vorns of keeping an optic on things, of watching, waiting, recording.

The growing disgust with the type of mech Megatron was drawing to him.

The realization, long before it was apparent in his actions, that Megatron was overcharged on power and loosing his processor.

The choice to speed up the processes, then make it quietly known to select others that he was holding back the insanity, which was also true.

Prowl shook in his arms, in awe of what Soundwave had done, the strength the mech had to possess to have lasted this long and done everything he had. Respect as he was reminded once more how inferior he was to the mech who had taken such an interest in him. And a determination in Prowl to do what he could to help Soundwave see this mission through.

~There are others?~

~Yes,~ Soundwave murmured. ~Mine to command and those I was not to know of. The larger the rebellion grew, the more resources were put into dismantling it from the inside without resorting to war.~

~Only for a war to happen anyway.~ Prowl grieved, the images of the ruins of Iacon still fresh in his processor. Fueled or not, the last of his strength left him, frame going limp against the larger mech in surrender as his systems started to shut down.

"Recharge, my love," Soundwave rumbled softly, drawing Prowl against him as they shifted to recharge lying down.


	23. Crossroads

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>:  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover,  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (anhrefn-hyfryd .livejournal .com/22919 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 23: Crossroads<p>**

* * *

><p>Prowl stared at the datapad, at the same analysis he had been looking at for over a breem. There had been no changes, and not even the twinges from his programming could force his processor to focus on the task at hand.<p>

His first full shift since Hook had completed the repairs from Prowl's punishment and he had been unable to accomplish much at his workstation. Giving up, he had downloaded the most important projects and returned to the quarters he shared with Soundwave, hoping that he would be able to function better there.

He had found himself alone, a situation he had expected but hoped against anyway. Even the company of Frenzy or Rumble was preferable to being alone like this, where his thoughts and doubts could overtake him, pulling his processor into a loop he couldn't escape from unaided.

He realized, after he placed the butting against his leg as Ravage demanding his attention, that an additional three breems had passed with him unawares.

"There you are," Ravage sounded a little too relieved. "Soundwave heard you go into a loop all the way in medbay."

Prowl winced at the reminder of his lover's current location, still recovering from the punishment Megatron had chosen to bestow on the host for daring to call a retreat when they had been 'winning'. Dropping the datapad he ran a hand over the symbiots head.

"Thank you for coming. I will strive to avoid stressing him so when he needs to focus on other things."

"How about talking it out instead," Ravage suggested, resting her head on his lap. "Soundwave has recovered enough to plan."

"To plan? The next massacre?" There was a bitter edge to Prowl's voice as he motioned to the datapad before. For that was all it was, when it was said and done. Now that he was actually looking for it Megatron's mental state was much clearer to Prowl, his actions driving the Praxian away as Prowl saw the truth for himself.

Sensor wings started to tremble, frustration and anger building in the seated mech until he got himself under control. "When Hook releases him..." Prowl said quietly.

"To plan whatever will soothe you," Ravage said quietly. "He can hear and speak through me. Talk to us, Prowl."

"I was wrong. This, is wrong." Prowl was exhausted. "I can't. Can't-." He flinched, his spark protesting at what Megatron was asking him to do. He couldn't plan another take over, not after seeing how his last plan had been utilized. How many had suffered and deactivated because of it.

But his spark hurt to at the only solution he could come up with, the only way out. "Can't plan. Can't leave."

"Defect," the answer came smoothly, easily, from the symbiot. "You can leave."

"No." Prowl looked at Ravage, thankful for the devoted symbiot but wishing it was Soundwave here with him. So he could try to make him understand. "Not and leave you behind."

Ravage paused, her head cocked slightly. "Soundwave says you can do more good as an Autobot. We would join you as soon as we can end the mess Soundwave created."

Prowl didn't know if he should growl or cry. Soundwave taking the blame for the mess they were in, or pushing him away because it seemed to be in Prowl's best interest.

"You would intend to join me." He corrected quietly, his battle computer pushing the odds at him. They were in a war. Soundwave was currently on the side of the Decepticons, had created a prominent place for himself there. Prowl was a Decepticon in name as well, a name he had chosen freely.

There was no guarantee the Autobots would accept him. There was no guarantee a Neutral wouldn't shoot him on sight.

Ravage stilled once more before speaking. "Can you plan a way for us to end the war quickly?" she asked quietly, uneasily.

"Kill Megatron. And take out Shockwave as well." Prowl responded quietly, quickly. It sounded simple, and it was. Simple and truthful.

There were others among the Decepticon ranks who could plan. Some who could even lead. But there weren't any who had the charisma or the sheer strength to hold the Decepticons together as they were now.

If both of those mech were taken out the chance that the faction would shatter was immense. It would be messy, chaotic. Those suddenly without direction would attack whatever they could find. Thousands would die.

Prowl flinched. There were so many flaws in the plan, so many details he didn't have or couldn't plan. If the Autobots knew there might be a chance of controlling the resulting chaos, but they were leaderless and floundering around themselves at the moment.

"Not quickly." He admitted quietly, painfully.

"We will discuss details later," Ravage vented, resting her head on Prowl's leg. "Shockwave is the one you need to focus on. Megatron can be dealt with. The goal ... Soundwave or you take over, hold on to enough officers to manage a functional surrender. Starscream if we _must_."

Prowl allowed himself a small laugh, the general attitude of the symbiots towards the air commander well known to him, and in his opinion well deserved. "How long until Hook is willing to let you go?"

"Next orn," she grumbled. "Well before Megatron gets loose again."

"Soon enough, and time for you to rest." Prowl commented quietly, reaching for the datapad he had been working on with an entirely new angle for this assignment rippling through his processor.

Working with one hand he continued to pet Ravage with the other, conversation shifting to smaller things and gossip that Soundwave would not be receiving as easily from the repair bay.

* * *

><p>Soundwave exited Hook's medbay with all his symbiots docked, a move very intentional; it made him look more formidable after being beaten very close to deactivation in front of all the officers and many others. His frame still twinged with all the repairs, ached from some, and he did not yet have his full endurance, but he was functional enough to be seen by the general population.<p>

While all that, scanning every mech who came close enough, glaring a threat to those who came too close, all he wanted was to reach his quarters and spend time with his lover.

Especially since the last time he had seen Prowl the Praxian had been rough shape himself, punished by Megatron for his 'failures' in the attack on Iacon. It meant little to the Decepticon leader that if Prowl had not taken charge Megatron might never have been recovered, and even if he had there would have been little left in the way of a functioning army for him to return to.

It made Soundwave hurt to know he had played a major hand in the damage his lover had taken time and again. If not for Soundwave's manipulations of Megatron's failing sanity, Prowl would not have been in danger.

~That's slag boss, and you know it,~ Rumble snapped. ~Old bucket helm was loosing it long before you touched him.~

Soundwave's reply was silence, guilt, but muted by the time he reached the quarters he would share with Prowl for the time.

Prowl rose the moment the door opened. He had given up working at his station and brought all of his work here. And he had known that Hook was going to let Soundwave go that orn, if not exactly when, and he wanted to be there.

"Soundwave: grateful to see Prowl," the giant greeted his lover as he stepped inside and the door shut behind him. "Prowl: was missed."

"So were you." Prowl informed him, crossing the short distance between and reaching out to Soundwave, wanting to be held but unwilling to risk stressing any of the large mech's still fresh repairs.

"Prowl: always welcome," Soundwave rumbled and knelt to pull the Praxian close, extending his field to wrap around Prowl in welcome. "Megatron: will be in stasis for a decaorn. Hook: most agreeable to the suggestion."

The Praxian relaxed against him, orns worth of stress and fitful recharge bleeding away. "After that display of temper I am not surprised. Though I doubt he will be pleased when he awakes."

Gentle hand wandered over the host's frame, noting the repairs that had been made and simply reassuring Prowl that his lover had returned. "No one has ever seen him so angry with you. It caused quite a stir among the forces who witnessed it. And word has spread among those who did not."

"Megatron: may not come out of stasis," Soundwave suggested, though Prowl knew him well enough to recognize the wishful nature of the statement.

"If only that was all it would take to end this." Prowl responded, enjoying the luxury of holding and being held for a moment.

"Agreed," Soundwave whispered, kissing Prowl's helm. "Prowl: will be safe," he promised.

Prowl shook his head, the most he was willing to offer by the way of argument at the moment. They were at war. No one was safe. Iacon had proved that.

Twitching, Prowl turned his attention to more immediate things, refusing to sink into that place right now. "Did Hook make you refuel before he turned you loose?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave answered before claiming a kiss with gentle strokes along his armor. "Prowl: refueled?"

"Not yet." He had been waiting until Soundwave returned in case the mech hadn't. There was plenty for both of them just in case. "And it's not urgent."

"Prowl: refuel while Prowl and Soundwave discuss the future." Soundwave rose and nudged his lover towards the berth, the only place in these quarters where they could both sit. It was too new to have set up an entertainment area for the symbiots yet, or even a reading area for the mechs.

Prowl sighed softly as he obediently retrieved the energon. While it was not something he wanted to do, he acknowledged it was necessary. Energon in hand he settled on the berth, frame touching his lover's as he was embraced once more. He accepted the hardline cable he was offered, his memory core and battle computer already keying up for the promised massive download of tactical information.

~Soundwave: loves Prowl,~ was the first thing that passed between them instead.

Prowl shivered and pressed into the larger mech, energon forgotten as he searched inside himself for a long moment.

When he spoke it was truth and belief, highlighted with an edge of fear. ~Love you.~

~Love: worth all pain.~ Soundwave told him with all the conviction he possessed. ~Prowl: worth everything.~

A soft whimper from the Praxian at the weight of being valued so much, sure what he felt in return now was love. Sure as he had not been the first time the large mech had informed Prowl of how much he meant to Soundwave. The realization was received with a deep wash of gratitude and pleasure from Soundwave.

~Soundwave and Prowl: will be reunited. In functioning or in the Well,~ Soundwave continued, completely at peace with either option. ~Primus: would not have sent Prowl to Soundwave to separate Prowl and Soundwave for all time.~

Conviction. Complete conviction.

It was all Soundwave could offer.

It was enough as Prowl drew comfort from Soundwave's peace, calming and turning his attention back to the energon he was still holding.

If Soundwave said it, in this it must be true.

For a klik or so he sat in silence, refueling to have the strength to face the plan he did not want to create. It was going to be messy, with a high casualty count, no matter how perfectly it went. The odds of them both surviving to meet again in this functioning were low enough that Prowl _needed_ his lover's conviction just to look.

The war, the situation, was no longer one that could be quickly solved.

With the energon finished, Prowl dissipated the empty cube with a spark of energy and prepared to face the inevitable.

~My agents, my contacts, my intel,~ Soundwave offered a surprisingly small datapack.

When Prowl opened it, he understood why. This was only the memory address, size, brief content description and password to the actual files.

~Thank you.~ Prowl murmured, glancing over the files and prioritizing them initially, leaving the notations open so he could access them as they worked.

Finally he vented softly. ~Where do you wish to begin?~

~Goal: what is it?~ Soundwave asked, simply to confirm they had the same goal.

~To end this.~

To end the insanity with as few casualties as possible. To fix things so that by the mercy of Primus there was no need for a full scale rebellion again. To do whatever was needed to bring this war to a close so that they could live in peace.

~Proposal: Prowl: ally with new Lord Prime. Prowl: fix their problems. Soundwave: hinder, remove Decepticons.~

A very broad outline, one that had all of Prowl's focus working on the details, the specifics, the sheer complexity of what sounded so simple on the surface.

And the hard truth that he still did not want to face. ~Don't want to be apart.~

~Soundwave: does not desire to part. Plan: requires either Soundwave or Prowl to defect. Prowl: more suited to the Autobots. Prowl: more easily accepted in the Autobots.~

~Truth.~ Prowl agreed quietly, pained.

Pain was pushed aside as he went to work on the details. ~They will not trust easily. I will need a clear reason for leaving, and a situation so my return is implausible. And time.~

~Reason: Prowl wished to leave Soundwave. Soundwave: intolerant of Prowl's true love. Prowl: will be introduced to the Autobots by Korrës. Korrës: has many allies in the Autobots. Prowl and Jazz: will be accepted. Bonus: Prowl can continue training under Korrës.~

Part of Prowl cringed at the mention of Jazz by Soundwave, at his feelings and the confusion he still felt about the silver mech. The plan was sound, the reason beyond believable...except for Prowl's wonder at how much of Soundwave's displeasure was true.

~If Korrës has contacts that will aid in their acceptance of me it would speed the plan. Especially if I am to gain the favor, or the trust, of whomever the Matrix chooses as the next Prime.~

~Soundwave: accepts Prowk's love of Jazz. Jazz: gives Prowl something Soundwave can not. Soundwave: grieves Soundwave is not enough.~ The giant held Prowl close, trying to allow the Praxian to _feel_ the truth of the words. ~Soundwave: loves Prowl. Soundwave: wishes Prowl to be _happy_. Jazz: makes Prowl happy. Jazz: ... has honest feelings for Prowl.~

Despite the truth of the words the grief that came with them tore at Prowl. He could not put into words what Jazz fulfilled in him, just his own sorrow that his selfishness caused Soundwave pain and another truth.

Jazz would never be what Soundwave was to Prowl, could never complete those parts of Prowl that belonged to the host and only to the host.

He pressed into the embrace. ~Enough. Always enough.~ Prowl would always need the host, wanted Soundwave to understand, even if Prowl was confusing himself trying to make sense of it all.

~Soundwave: _understands_,~ the host promised, holding him close. ~Soundwave: loves Prowl. Soundwave: loves symbiots. Love: not a limited thing. Prowl: loves Soundwave. Prowl: loves Jazz. Soundwave: accepts Jazz with Prowl.~

Understanding and permission, a relief to Prowl even if it still bothered him. Thankfulness and pure love washed across the connection. He would not be alone, and when they ended this war they would all be together, or so he prayed.

Still shaken but relieved, Prowl laid his helm against Soundwave's chest comfortably and turned his attention back to planning. ~There is little reason to make plans around the new Prime until we know who it is going to be.~

~Agreed. Prowl: must plan to acquire the Lord Prime's trust when Prowl is an Autobot,~ Soundwave said quietly. ~Prowl: able to stage breaking up with Soundwave; hate and fear Soundwave?~

~Since I must. But don't ask me to manage it for long.~ Prowl pleaded, thankful that there was little reason they should have to drag it out. An explosive ending to their stable relationship of many vorns followed quickly by Prowl's defection would be the gossip for weeks, and an excellent cover.

~Cover: must be maintained among the Autobots. Korrës, Jazz: only ones who may know. New Lord Prime: after Prime trusts Prowl.~

~Agreed.~ But at least among the Autobots Prowl would not have to appear to live in open disagreement with the host in front of an audience, or walk around as though he lived in fear of the mech he loved. At least among the Autobots all he should have to do is mirror the general attitude towards Soundwave; to not correct those who spoke against him. Unpleasant, but far easier to maintain.

It would be convenient, if he could be trusted, for the new Prime to know some of the details as well. The sooner the better, Prowl hoped, if only for increasing the Soundwave's safety on the battlefield, however marginal.

~I go. You stay.~ Prowl repeated, though it was more to convince himself than to check over a point they had already covered. ~You keep Megatron under control as much as possible while we both work towards finding a way to bring Shockwave down and I gain the trust of the new Prime.~

~Affirmative,~ Soundwave tipped Prowl chip in to kiss him. ~Incentive: reunion.~

~With you.~ Prowl moaned, melting into the kiss and optics going dim, hands beginning to wander over the large frame once more, and this time not merely seeking to reassure and give comfort.

~Affirmative,~ Soundwave moaned between their minds, a sudden flush of arousal sharper and more intense than before. With that arousal came the undeniable feeling that much of the extra intensity was because _Prowl_ was indicating, that _Prowl_ desired this as more than a response to Soundwave's desires.

The Praxian whimpered softly, making it clear that he wanted as he pressed into the kiss, sensor panels flaring slightly. Large hands stroked Prowl's frame while tentacles reached to encircle and caress the delicate sensor wings.

~Prowl: my beautiful love,~ Soundwave shuddered, the pleasure growing quickly in response to touch. ~Prowl: spike Soundwave?~ the giant asked, hesitant but wanting very much.

Golden optics flashed, sensor panels quivering as Prowl curled against Soundwave's chest, hands stroking over plating without ceasing as Prowl processed the request and the want quickly.

Finally he looked up at Soundwave, hesitant himself and seeking confirmation. ~You want?~

~Affirmative,~ Soundwave nodded, opening himself up a little more to Prowl, wishing his lover to know how genuine the desire was.

Shyness, uncertainty, as Prowl kissed him again before slowly beginning to work his way down the giant's frame. Glossa teased for a moment at Soundwave's neck before following the path Prowl's hands were tracing over the broad chest, searching to please. Every touch was greeted with a sound of pleasure, a flare of desire and arousal, a wordless, silent plea for more as Soundwave slowly lay back and spread his legs to bare his valve as the cover slid open.

A pause as Prowl paid special attention to Soundwave's ribs, knowing exactly how sensitive they were and gathering himself, concentrating on the sounds he was pulling from the larger mech and allowing them to feed his own desire.

From ribs to hips, and finally to that bared valve where Prowl stopped, quivering.

Soundwave trembled, desire running hot enough to burn. His optics were locked on Prowl, watching his lover, wanting, more than anything, to _feel_ Prowl in this one way they had never shared before. To know Prowl's pleasure in every possible way to sustain him through the long vorns until they could be together again.

Tentative fingers circled the valve, then glossa, teasing and tasting. Prowl vented sharply as Soundwave's desire washed over him, craving the closeness as much as his lover.

"Prowl!" Soundwave arched, pressing his hips into the touch, his body aching for more.

A moan escaped Prowl, glossa continuing to work as the Praxian reached up, fingers working into hip joints. Hesitation faded away with his lover's response, Prowl's cover sliding away and spike finally pressurizing. It didn't take long for his powerful processor to catch on that every time he felt a small rise he also felt a jolt of pleasure from Soundwave.

~Sensor node,~ Soundwave answered as his tentacles reached to stroke Prowl's sensor wings.

Prowl groaned in understanding, momentarily distracted as his back arched, wings pressing into the touch before he re-focused, concentrating on using this new understanding to drive his lover into an overload.

Large strong hands gripped the berth as Soundwave moaned, his hips rocking into Prowl's efforts with ever increment closer he came to overload. Across the hardline and telepathy everything flowed freely both ways, causing Prowl to moan with every jolt of pleasure he gave Soundwave.

Prowl struggled to control his own reactions, determined to please his lover thoroughly. If he was leaving he was going to leave Soundwave with memories to make what they were doing worth it.

Fingers dove into joints, seeking to drive Soundwave the edge.

"Prowl!" Soundwave roared as his entire frame arched off the berth, his overload-bliss slamming into Prowl with the force of Megatron's fusion cannon even before the electrical storm crashed into his frame from the much larger one under his.

Prowl cried out, shaking from the energy rocking his entire frame and the openly shared pleasure from his lover. Optics focused, centered on Soundwave, reveling in the sight of the larger mech's pleasure as Prowl gave in, pushed to his own overload at the sight.

The Praxian fell across the larger mech, systems working furiously to dispel the charge as Prowl waited, content for the moment.

~Prowl: thank you,~ Soundwave managed as he dragged himself from the lax mental state of post-overload.

~You're welcome,~ Prowl purred, pleased, and his hands stroked softly over Soundwave's ribs again, his own systems still running high. ~Not done yet?~ Question and offer, Soundwave's original request still present.

~Soundwave: desires more,~ he rumbled, his tentacles gently squeezing and stroking Prowl's sensor wings. ~Prowl: enjoy?~ he sent a picture-thought of Prowl spike deep in Soundwave's valve while Soundwave stretched and filled Prowl's valve with a thick tentacle.

The Praxian moaned eagerly in agreement, but forced his valve cover to remain closed for a moment. Instead he shifted to sink his spike into Soundwave's valve, wanting that to be his entire focus for the moment. Pleasure once again rippled across the hardline, but along with it was Soundwave's emotional joy at sharing this new pleasure with Prowl.

Soundwave rippled his valve around Prowl's spike. He would never be as tight as Jazz was for Prowl, but as the Praxian moaned it was clear that for Prowl this was pure pleasure.

Looking up, Prowl caught his lovers attention, golden optics glowing as he pulled out and thrust in, slowly, reveling in the sensations. Soundwave moaned again, shuddering in shared ecstasy as small zaps began to jump between their frames, and especially through the highly conductive lubricant between spike and valve.

~Prowl: yesss!~ Soundwave gasped, trembling as his tentacles stroked Prowl's valve cover, seeking entrance.

Purring, Prowl teased for a few more thrusts, focusing entirely on Soundwave before he lost the fight and his valve cover slid aside. The thick fullness that invaded his awareness whited Prowl's awareness out for a brief moment. The bliss of a thick tentacle driving into him, the intensity of having a smaller one spiraled around it to create an endless sequence of ridges, the intense pleasure of Soundwave's bliss at his own.

Prowl latched on to Soundwave, keen escaping his vocalizer as pleasure overwhelmed him for a moment. Panting, his grip loosened to stroke over plating and he pressed his hips back, questioning.

Soundwave nodded. _Yes-want-please-love_ rushing into Prowl from both hardline and the telepathy he had come to find incredibly comforting.

With a moan Prowl pulled back and thrust in, harder than before as his own feelings fed freely over the links between them. Desire to pleasure as much as he was being pleasured. To share how right this was. To love as he was loved.

~Prowl,~ Soundwave moaned, everything he felt for Prowl, physical and emotional, rippling outwards to enfold the Praxian in Soundwave's pleasure, love and devotion.

Accepted, acknowledged, and returned as the emotional blended with the physical, pushing Prowl towards release. Just being loved and wanted as much as Soundwave wanted and loved him was enough to overload him on the spot, and the only thing holding him back was the desire for Soundwave to be with him.

That _his_ desires mattered so much to Soundwave was yet another level of ecstasy as they fed off each other's pleasure, shameless in their adoration, their desire to please. In less than a klik Prowl felt Soundwave's overload begin to ripple outwards as well as inwards.

"Prowl!" Soundwave moaned, his frame trembling as he let go.

Prowl held off just long enough to feel Soundwave go over the edge, to take in the sight and sensation of his lover in absolute bliss before joining him, conscious blanking out from overload on multiple levels.

When he checked back in with reality, Prowl found himself sprawled on top of Soundwave's backstrut, inside his ribs, with his spark pulsing in near-unison with his lover's.

"Soundwave: will miss Prowl a great deal."

Post overload contentment vanished as Prowl came abruptly back to the present. With a sigh he reached out, fingers running lightly over the hosts ribs. "As I will miss you."

Soundwave hummed. "Prowl: energy for merging sparks before recharge?"

"Always."

The reply was immediate and accompanied by action as Prowl rose to face his lover, desire strong and with it a hint of desperation. He reached up, touching Soundwave's face gently before pressing his lips to the larger mechs. The kiss was returned with matching desire and desperation-driven fear.

~Soundwave: will be with Prowl when this war ends,~ he promised with all the conviction he possessed.

Prowl didn't bother with words, chest plates opening and baring his spark, full of hope and belief in Soundwave. The host trembled under him, still in awe that Prowl wanted to be his, that thousands of vorns of desire and quiet watching had finally been answered.

~Soundwave: loves Prowl,~ he moaned as his chest plates parted and his spark chamber spiraled open, offering himself, everything he had, everything he might have or be, to the spark that had captured his own so completely.

~Love you.~ Prowl answered as he eased his spark down, the brilliant light already reaching out for the spark that called for it.


	24. To Iacon and the Future

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover,  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (anhrefn-hyfryd .livejournal .com/22919 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 24: To Iacon and the Future<p>**

* * *

><p>Jazz had to admit, to himself at least, that Prowl was a rather skilled actor when he put his processors to it. Good enough for Ops work, if his tactical computer and logic center weren't far more valuable to Tactical. He had absolutely no doubt that every Decepticon who'd seen it believed that Prowl had thrown Soundwave for Jazz and was defecting out of fear of his former lover.<p>

Slag it, _he_ believed the show and _he_ knew it was an act.

The trickiest part was figuring out how to explain that Korrës wasn't going to escort them but met them in Iacon ... and then manage to be in two places in the same room.

Thankfully Black Echo said he had an answer.

For now, Jazz only had to worry about keeping Prowl on track and out of sight until they reached the rendezvous.

His job was made slightly easier by the fact that the Praxian was very obedient at the moment, if somewhat distracted. Shaken and stressed on the inside, it was only visible if one knew what to look for.

It was good sign that Prowl was starting to truly function in the present when he started asking questions. "Who am I going to see?"

"The Autobot SIC and acting commander Black Echo, TIC Ultra Magnus, CMO Ratchet ... the Prime if he's around," Jazz rattled off who he was _sure_ were going to interrogate his lover and prize catch. "Probably others."

The first designation Prowl recognized, having heard it before from his silver companion. The others were pulled up from his files, tactical computer quickly picking out key points on all the mechs Jazz had listed for him.

They were going to be a hard crowd to convince.

"Has the Matrix chosen a new Prime then?" He had hoped to have more a base built before facing that challenge, but he would work with what he had.

"I'm not sure, but I think so," Jazz nodded as he guided Prowl around a corner in the one section of the city that hadn't been badly damaged. "They're still keeping quiet about the last one biting the dust."

"Something easier to desire than to do, I am sure." Prowl responded, sensor panels sweeping in search of danger or threat out of habit any more. Focusing on something outside of himself was easier, and so he did that.

It also allowed him to ignore the small bits of fear and all of the scenarios his battle computer was throwing at him where this all ended badly.

"Weapons on the bench," A low, deep voice rumbled from the darkness.

"That's Black Echo," Jazz commented as he carefully removed a light blaster and Prowl's spare dagger from his subspace and put them on the bench as directed.

Prowl twitched, startled and irritated, though neither showed beyond the small motion as he obeyed as well, carefully placing his side arm and backup blades he carried next to Jazz's.

The Praxian then backed up slowly, still looking for the exact source of the voice that had managed to take him by surprise when he had been on the lookout. He watched as a small dark minibot, one that barely came up to Jazz's chest, slipped from the shadows and gathered the items before stepping a few paces away. Powerful scanners swept over him, and a rich black colored mech taller than Prowl stepped forward.

"Welcome to Iacon, Prowl," Black Echo rumbled, taking in his guests. "I understand you wish to defect."

"Correct." Prowl answered simply, not bothering to hide the fact that he was studying these new mechs in return. The scans running over him made his own sensors itch.

"Thank you." He added as polite afterthought.

Black Echo chuckled. "Well then Prowl, follow me and we'll start on all the fun stuff before paperwork is settled." He motioned the pair to follow him into the shadows. It was then that Prowl understood how such a large mech had snuck up on him. While Black Echo was a very quiet mechanism, he had also stepped out of a door only a few paces away.

Still annoyed at being caught- if the mech had meant him or Jazz any harm they wouldn't have had time to defend themselves- Prowl satisfied himself with filing the information away and making a little note of it in his personal file on the black mech.

He glanced at Jazz, wondering a little at the phrasing and if he should be worried about whatever the current acting commander of the Autobots had in mind. Fun, at least among the Decepticons could have layers of meaning within meaning. From what Jazz had said of the mech, Black Echo was as in to causing pain and suffering as any Decepticon. It wasn't a comforting thought.

The only good part was that Jazz wasn't at all skittish about him. The smaller mech behind them, the one with their weapons, that one Jazz seemed to want to avoid getting too close to, but Black Echo didn't bother him.

"I don't suppose Korrës briefed you on what to expect?" Black Echo asked as he led them through a maze of dark, tight corridors.

"The basics. There was not as much time between my decision to defect and my actual departure to make for convenient planning." Subtly Prowl shifted the divisions of his processing power to focus more on the mech that Jazz was avoiding.

Simple questions such as the black mech was asking did not demand much of him, but he had entered into this with no promise of safety, and he doubted they would hesitate to shoot him in the back if they deemed it necessary, or even simply advantageous.

"Yes, surely a lover's spat is not cause enough to defect," Black Echo prodded, well aware of Prowl's shift of focus.

"It was rather more than a 'spat'." Prowl explained, tension seeping into his voice for a moment. "And one does not cross Soundwave lightly."

There were other reasons, layered on top of each other to create a defense. None of them alone were enough to justify his turning his back on something he had believed in, but added all together they might well cause one to wonder why Prowl had stayed as long as he had.

"No, you don't," Black Echo agreed amiably as Jazz moved a bit closer to Prowl, watching Anchor like he was Unicron himself. "He's one of the scarier mechs out there. That full story is one I'm expecting to hear."

Prowl's sensor wings flicked, the move meant to look dismissive even as Prowl tried to settle his response to Jazz's actions. "I am sure it is not as entertaining as it sounds. I made a choice and he was...not pleased."

Black Echo glanced at Prowl, considering him, before opening a door that hadn't been apparent before it slid into the wall to spill bright light into the dark hall. "Take a seat," the big mech motioned inside as he stepped into the room.

Prowl gave the space a sweeping glance. An over-large plush chair, meant either for a short wide mech or two his size, a couple normal chairs, and one designed for a minibot to sit around the round table summed up the furniture. The only other object in the room was a double berth, padded for a Praxian from its look.

He didn't want to, the layout of the room setting him on edge. He wanted to look at Jazz, wanted some sort of guidance in a situation he had never encountered before.

Finally he moved into the room and settled into one of the standard seats, arranging his sensor panels for as much comfort as possible, and so that he still had some sense of what was going on behind him. He watched as Black Echo pulled out the other chair and dropped into it with a sprawling ease of someone who knew, right down to their spark, that they were in absolute control. He also noted in that moment that the small minibot hadn't followed them into the room.

"Move," Jazz snapped, drawing Black Echo's attention to him. "Don't look so fraggin surprised. You aren't paying me right now. Move," he shoved at the much larger mech's chair hard enough to make it rock.

Black Echo cycled his dark blue optics, then laughed and stood, swapping the placement of the his chair and the minibot's one so Jazz could sit next to Prowl.

Prowl hid his surprise, since that was a dynamic he had not expected from his knowledge of Black Echo and his understanding of Jazz's place among the Autobots.

Still, it was a comfort to have the small mech as a sort of insulation between him and the stranger. He relaxed minutely, nowhere near at ease but not concerned that someone was going to take him out from behind at the moment.

As prepared as he figured he was going to be, Prowl resigned himself to waiting for whatever was going to come next. The first thing was that Jazz's hand found his under the table.

Then Black Echo settled again and focused on Prowl. "Tell me why you want to defect. Why I should trust you."

Prowl vented softly, considering. The supposed fear for his own continued functioning would have been a perfectly acceptable reason among the Decepticons, possibly even where this line of questioning would have ceased.

But the entire point of being here was that he was no longer among the Decepticons.

"I joined to fight against a system that was wrong. Not to bring harm to those I wished to help. The Decepticons no longer look beyond themselves." Prowl looked at Black Echo, intense, serious. "Do you?"

The big mech chuckled, honest amusement in his smile. "You do realize you're asking a senior Black Ops agent if he's a good mech." Black Echo's smile turned hard. "No Prowl. I'm not. No one with my function can say that. We exist to do the ugly work so politicians can seem clean even when they aren't. Just ask your lover what kind of mech I am when I'm not playing SIC," he motioned to Jazz, who looked down, his fingers tightening around Prowl's.

Prowl squeezed Jazz's hand in return, calm.

"The system's more corrupt than even you imagined," Black Echo continued, leaning forward and resting his chin on steepled fingers. "Autobot vs. Decepticon went past the stage of right vs wrong, good vs evil, a long time ago. On the other hand, pretty much everyone who made the system corrupt is with Primus and next to no one functioning and willing to talk is part of it anymore. Now it's a matter of whether the system is changed from within or without."

Prowl had been under no illusion that Black Echo was 'good' by any means. But good was a very elusive concept. Still, it spoke of the mech's integrity on some level that he was bluntly honest about his function.

"The inquiry was not well done." Prowl conceded. "A better phrasing might be what are your intentions?"

Prowl had been taken for a fool once, and he did not wish the same to happen again.

Black Echo considered him again before answering. "To ensure a Prime, the bearer of the Matrix of Leadership, remains the ruler of Cybertron. For good or ill and expecting both, a Prime has ruled since the first Thirteen. I have no intention of seeing that end during my functioning."

"Then we at least share a common goal." Prowl said quietly. The Prime had not been the one hurting the people. It was the Council, and the severe unbalance of power that had formed between the two.

"How did you end up with Soundwave?" Black Echo asked with genuine curiosity.

Prowl shrugged slightly. "He approached me not long after I had been promoted to the rank of junior officer. At that time accepting his attention was a logical course of action."

"It was never for more than his protection then?" Black Echo raised an optic ridge.

"Protection. Company of my choosing. Companionship. There were far worse mechs that wanted my time." Prowl answered easily enough, none of what he was saying a lie, to the mech he was speaking to or his own spark.

"Oh?" Black Echo was suddenly very interested. "Who else wanted you?"

"Several members of the Construticon gestalt. Another Praxian, because of frame type. Shockwave. Among others." Prowl answered, clearly not impressed with any of the options.

Apparently it was of interest to Black Echo, though. "Mmm, what made Soundwave preferable to Shockwave? As far as power goes, Shockwave is arguably a better choice."

"Detachment. Soundwave was there and offered first. I also did not learn of Shockwave's interest until afterward."

Black Echo nodded. "And how'd you end up with Jazz, choosing him over Soundwave?"

Prowl vented quietly. "Things change." He looked at Jazz as the silver minibot scooted closer. "I wished to spend what free time with those whose company I enjoy. Soundwave saw things differently, but my spark is not his to command."

"Perhaps not, but that is still a serious break to make, especially for a mech whose time is bought more often than not."

"I _never_ deluded Prowl about what I am or that I'll always sell my time and attention," Jazz actually growled.

"He did not." Prowl agreed, defending Jazz. "But the outcome would have been no different if it were anyone else, unless perhaps I managed to catch the optic of someone who ranked even Soundwave."

Black Echo shuddered faintly, as did Jazz.

"Given who that list is, you'd be better off running if that had happened," Black Echo muttered. "Couple sick fraggers there, even by my standards. Are there any Cons you're going to miss, anyone who's not convicted of the cause?" he asked. "Mechs we should focus on courting?"

"Freeway, Getaway, Sprocket, Greaser, Skids ... especially Skids," Prowl murmured. "I have no idea how he became a Decepticon, much less how he's survived, but he's a brilliant mech and has no business being in the war's front lines. I wouldn't go looking for him, but Smokescreen might make a passable Autobot if you can curb his con artist base programming."

He glanced at Jazz, suddenly thoughtful. "Windcharger might be a possibility as well. Minibot. Joined because he was looking for a fight, but I am not sure that the ideals of the Decepticons ever really appealed to him."

Black Echo nodded, thoughtful. "What are your goals in defecting?"

Prowl shrugged. "To live to see the end of the war." He said first, and then went still as he considered the rest of his answer, a real answer. "To see a world where there is at least chance for those functioning to answer their sparks as they were meant to. Without sacrificing those I wish to help in the process."

"The end of what held _you_ back, the end of the caste system?" Black Echo suggested.

Prowl stared at him, impassive on the surface as his processor sprang into overdrive. Memories files surfaced, everything that had held him back from fulfilling the desires of his spark and core programming since he woken to functioning.

Programming. Programming that had forced him to go against the desires of the spark that Primus had seen fit to give him. Programming that had held him back from loving one of the mechs who held claim to his spark before Soundwave had provided him orders to soothe it.

"Programming." Prowl growled softly.

The larger mech hummed thoughtfully and leaned back to consider the mech before him. "The end of pre-programmed mechs?"

Sensor panels twitched. "Not necessarily, but certainly changes in how they are handled. Pre-programmed and indentured or not, the spark that powers still comes from the Well by the will of Primus."

"But what is requested is what is delivered," Black Echo pointed out. "It could be argued that any spark ill-suited to its function is because the priest who called for it did not ask for the right thing." He leaned forward. "Do you know who called your spark forth?"

"Would it make a difference?" Prowl asked, calmer on the surface than underneath because he wasn't sure where Black Echo was taking that line of questioning. "Those who requested me got what they asked for. What they did not consider well enough beforehand was what they were getting when they asked. Nor did they consider a spark they had requested as being anything more than an overly intelligent drone. I would see pre-programmed sparks acknowledged as _sparks_, even while under contract."

"It makes a difference because of why you are here," Black Echo said _gently_. "The High Priest who called you was Soundwave. The very mech who you shared a berth with for vorns and you are now trying to escape. He has had an interest in you from the beginning. He may well have always intended to claim you as his plaything."

The Praxian frames mech vented thoughtfully. "I am away from him now."

Never mind that Soundwave had offered to free him more than once, with truth that Prowl could feel behind the offer. Never mind that Prowl had chosen to stay each time, going out of his way to prove to the host that he _wanted_ to stay.

Those were things the black mech never needed to know. Couldn't know if they were going to make this work.

"And I am here, if you will have me."

"Oh, we'll have you," Black Echo promised. "In what capacity is what we're still working out. You would be an uncontested asset to the tactical division. They're not at all shy that they want you. You're a damn fine frontliner, and your value to my own division is unquestionable. You are by far the highest ranking Decepticon to ever defect. Praxus will want you back for trial when they find out you're here. Not that long ago the Senate would too." He leaned back and regarded the mechs across from him. "Where you go, for what and with what clearance is officially up to the Prime, functionally up to me. What I recommend to him will depend entirely on how much I decide to trust you."

"Prowl can't go back," Jazz pointed out.

"So you say," Black Echo nodded. "I'm also aware of Soundwave's capabilities. So let's get down to tactical intel. Codes, maps, Decepticon IDs, rank structure, facilities and forces."

Prowl nodded his understanding, somewhat relieved that the personal line of questioning was at end. "Where do you want to start?"

* * *

><p>Joors later Black Echo had left, energon rations consumed and Jazz had coaxed Prowl to the berth. The silver mech was rubbing Prowl's sensor wings to soothe them and the tension in the joints and cables.<p>

"You know, I _still_ have a hard time processing that we're actually doing this," Jazz murmured as he ignored the growing discomfort in his own systems to work the stress from Prowl's.

Prowl groaned softly as Jazz's hands found a particularly troublesome spot and the Praxian's entire frame started to relax. For a few moments he indulged himself in the work of the skilled hands before reaching around to pull Jazz in for a kiss.

Pressing his lips to the silver mechs in a gentle expression of thanks he settled down on the berth. "What is there to process?"

"That you actually left _Soundwave_," Jazz pointed out. "That mech has contacts that put mine to shame. My giving up that contract for you," he shook his head even as he snuggled close, his engine purring. "Worth it, but processing how to make up the 68% loss is giving me quite a processor ache."

"Stop thinking about it." Prowl suggested, hands running down the sleek back in apology. "I'll help you figure out a way to make it up later. And thank you."

"Mmm, hard to," Jazz purred and pressed into the touch. "It's my function, Prowl. It doesn't even turn off when we interface."

Prowl's hands faltered as that processed, sorrow in his optics and in the field that reached out to hesitantly encompass Jazz. "I'm sorry. When I asked you- I didn't realize-."

That it would cause Jazz this much distress. He would do everything in his power to see the silver minibot protected, cared for, and happy.

But his power was non-existent. His own continued functioning was questionable. New tension spread through him as his computers started to work on the problem.

"I know," Jazz murmured and stretched upwards to kiss him. "You're worth it. I can make up the difference as soon as they turn me loose. Well, enough at any rate. It's just been a long time since I didn't have a major contract to rely on."

Prowl sighed. "We'll just have to see about getting them to turn you loose as soon as possible then."

"Babe, no," Jazz pressed close and kiss him almost frantically. "No. Not until you're free too. They won't let me back _in_ if I walk out that door. No, they're providing energon. Just ... are you agreeable to interfacing here?"

"With you?" There was a slight teasing note to Prowl's voice as he held Jazz against him. "Anywhere."

Tension fled Jazz with a wash of relief. "Good," he whispered, his hands becoming much more direct as he focused his mouth on Prowl's neck. "Been too long."

Whatever Prowl had been planning to answer was lost in the moan from the attention on his neck, his own hands sliding over the silver mech in a way that was far more than merely comforting. He heard Jazz's interface panels snap open even before his hands reached those sleek silver hips.

"Tell me what you want, please," Jazz gasped against Prowl's throat. "Tell me how to please you."

"Ride me? So I can watch when you overload?" Prowl suggested, tilting his head to drag his glossa over a sensor horn.

Jazz moaned, shuddering in anticipation as he squirmed down Prowl's broad chest, kissing as he went, until his mouth was sealed over Prowl's spike cover. Then he hummed, deep and rumbling, while his glossa swirled along the smooth, warming metal.

Prowl optics flickered at the attention, not even trying to hold back as spike cover slid away, exposing everything to that wonderfully talented glossa. A low moan escaped him as Jazz sealed his mouth around the spike housing, ever so much like their first blissful time. Very much like that first time, Prowl's spike responded eagerly and pressurized into the welcoming slick heat.

With a smile and a wave of pleasure in his field at causing such pleasure, Jazz hummed and sucked. He had long ago stopped trying to explain the coding quirks that made him a sparked pleasurebot. How he could gain such physical pleasure by causing pleasure, but it was very much a part of his core nature. He loved to make others moan and feel good no matter how he did it.

Only when Prowl was struggling to hold back thrusting his hips did Jazz pull his head away. "Still want me to ride you, lover?"

"Tease." Prowl growled without any true aggression, regaining enough control to reach out and pull the smaller mech up for a kiss. "Yes."

"Good," Jazz moaned into the kiss, relishing it before he had to break it and slide back. "Hardline?" he opened the dataport on his chest.

"As long as it won't cause problems." Prowl answered, matching port reveled willingly.

Jazz simply shivered in anticipation and quickly plugged in both ways. After the first data pings to ensure the connection was working, he opened himself up fully to his lover, offering Prowl access to his processors as well as his sensory data. He slowly sank down on Prowl's spike, sharing the exquisite sensation of being stretched and filled, a sensation they both enjoyed more than doing the filling.

Prowl moaned, settling back to enjoy everything that Jazz offered. Hands traced over Jazz's thighs, teasing lightly at the hip joints as he made sure Jazz understood just how much pleasure he brought to Prowl.

It was a thought-move that made Jazz tremble as he settled with Prowl's spike fully enveloped by his valve.

~Love you, Prowl,~ Jazz gasped through the hardline, his valve rippling around its prisoner. ~You're so worth it.~

A brush of relief on Prowl's part that Jazz believed him to worth what Jazz was enduring for him. So thankful for the small mech's willingness to give for Prowl and his wish that he had something to offer in return.

~Love you.~

~That, and _you_, are enough,~ Jazz moaned as he lifted himself up, relishing every tiny ridge and node of the spike sliding inside him and sharing that pleasure with the mech causing it.

~Thank you.~ Prowl whispered across the line, sending all the love he could across the connection, all the peace and comfort he found in the mech with him.

Fingers moved along the edges of Jazz's hips, Prowl's entire frame quivering as he took in the beauty of Jazz displaying his pleasure, just for Prowl. It didn't matter if they were being watched, this _was_ for _Prowl_ and it was intoxicating.

His helm thrown back, his chassis arched and every system in his frame focused on what was happening in his valve, Jazz slowly lifted himself up and pushed himself down, shifting the angle with every movement.

Prowl forced himself to be still, to draw out this shared pleasure flooding him for as long as he could, to value what Jazz was offering as his systems kicked into overdrive.

~Do you have any idea how beautiful you are like that?~ Prowl demanded, sharing what he was seeing and feeling to make sure Jazz could understand. The feel of Jazz's valve around his spike was wonderful, but it was so much better with being able to _see_ Jazz like this.

~As beautiful as you are lost in pleasure,~ Jazz replied, more than willing to draw this out as long as he could. ~You sound so good, like the finest energon.~

~Sound?~ Prowl repeated, a moan escaping him and his fingers digging into Jazz's hips as the silver mech moved again. He felt how enticing the sound was to his lover, the shock of erotic pleasure it caused Jazz

~Yes, your moans sound _so_ sweet,~ Jazz shuddered, slowly riding Prowl's spike while his valve worked. ~Love the way you sound, the flare of your wings, the feel of your frame against mine, the charge I cause in your systems.~

"Jazz..." Prowl moaned and shifted his frame, wings spreading against the berth, a hand moving to run along Jazz's frame, charge beginning to build on the surface of Prowls.

All in response to what Jazz did to him.

With a gasp of his vents, Jazz brought his helm forward so he could meet Prowl's bright optics and _watch_ the face he adored twitch and morph in ecstasy.

"So lovely," Jazz whispered, his hips trembling as he held to the exactingly slow pace. "Stroke me? Let me see my transfluid glistening on your chest."

Fingers teased down Jazz's chest, tracing seams, waist, hips...before wrapping around the ornate spike, stroking and squeezing slowly in time with the silver mechs movements. Jazz shuddered and pressed into the touch as best he could, his movements restricted by the spike inside him.

"Oh, Prowl," he moaned and arched shamelessly, the tormenting duel stimulation and his inability to drive into both a glorious feeling he shared in full with the mech causing it.

A answering shudder rippled through Prowl. "Let go."

There wasn't a trace of hesitation as Jazz complied, his cry echoing in the room as his spike overloaded, sending an arc of shimmering transfluid to splash on Prowl's chest. His optics shorted out, the visor going black as his features tightened in bliss. All the while his valve worked Prowl's spike but held back from overloading by the barest margin, wanting to give Prowl a double show for his efforts.

"Beautiful." Prowl praised, hips starting to move with his lover now, moving to bring them both pleasure.

Jazz's moans rose, the pleasure rising hot and fast even against the cooling charge from the spike overload. He forced his optics on to take in the sight of his lover moving under him, the pleasure etched in his handsome features and Jazz transfluid spreading over his chest.

"Oh Primus," Jazz whimpered, offering up just what the sight _did_ to him. "Can't believe you're really _mine_."

"Yours." Prowl agreed softy, hands moving to settle on Jazz's hips, working into the silver mechs hips just the way Jazz got off on most. Thankful that he could be that for Jazz. Thankful that Jazz was here, with him.

His world was not perfect. Not even close to right, at the moment. But it was bearable because he was not alone.

Prowl moaned, the slow charge building from his spike surging with Jazz's and bringing him so much closer to release.

It was the tipping point Jazz was waiting for and he moaned, then keened, before he let go completely and allowed his valve overload to take him.

The sight, the sound, the pleasure washing through him from every connection between them cascaded Prowl into his own overload as he followed his lover into bliss, pleasure moving between them in a continuous loop.

* * *

><p>Prowl's first awareness was of pleasure, the familiar warmth of Jazz's valve around his spike as the minibot rode him.<p>

A soft moan as his optics focused slowly, traveling up the lithe silver frame before meeting the glowing visor.

"Morning, handsome," Jazz purred and squeezed his valve as he leaned forward for a kiss. "Recharge well?"

"Very well." Prowl replied, reaching up to cradle the silver mechs face, sharing a gentle kiss. "And my wake up call is very pleasant."

"Every morning from now on, love," Jazz murmured, shivering at the truth of it. "Every morning I can wake you this way, or with my mouth, or my spike, or my hands."

"I would enjoy any of that, and all of that. Just as I would enjoy simply waking to find you next to me." Prowl kissed him again, glossa teasing.

Jazz merely hummed and kissed back, his hands reaching for Prowl's sensor wings.

"Primus," a frustrated voice grumbled from across the room.

The Praxians reaction was immediate, holding Jazz close and reaching for weapons no longer close at hand as all of his senses focused with a growl on the individual who had dared to invade.

The mech's ID ping was 'Ratchet, Autobot CMO' and the mid-sized red and white mech remained by the door, arms cross and glaring at them. "Well finish up already so we can get the medical checkup out of the way."

Prowls grip loosened, field flaring in apology/question against the mech in his arms. "Jazz?"

"I don't care about the audience," he murmured. "You?"

"He was the one who chose now to interrupt." Prowl pointed out, smirking a bit as he leaned in to kiss Jazz rather thoroughly, making it blatantly obvious how nice it was.

Jazz hummed again and finished reaching for Prowl's wings, stroking them as Prowl began to thrust into him.

Strong hands held Jazz in place and Prowl flared his wings to give Jazz the best possible access from this angle as Prowl switched his attention to Jazz's sensor horns, teasing them thoroughly. He enjoyed the squirming moans he elicited, and the way his own mingled with Jazz's when the minibot began to mouth his neck.

Both mechs were aware of the medic watching him, his occasional huffs and grumbles, until the charge building in them began to zap between them.

With a gasp Jazz shuddered and keened, his valve rippling around Prowl's spike as the silver mech overloaded with a shameless display for anyone watching. A shameless display that worked just as well on his willing lover, sending Prowl into his own overload.

The Praxian leaned back against the berth as he came off his high, well aware of the impatience radiating from the medic across the room but unwilling to rush this. His attention remained mostly on Jazz, hands running down the smaller mechs back in a way that always seemed to soothe the silver mech and bring him pleasure without arousing him too much.

"Thank you." He murmured, planting a gentle kiss on Jazz's helm as well.

"Mmm, you're welcome," Jazz purred, reluctant to disentangle himself but familiar enough with Ratchet to know that the medic was about to haul him off Prowl by his scruff if he didn't move himself.

"Any physical damage you care to tell me about before I start looking?" Ratchet grumbled as Jazz settled on the foot of the berth to clean up.

"Little that is not cosmetic in nature." Prowl responded, classifying his damage through long practice. There were dents and scratches in his armor that needed to be addressed before they began to compromise the integrity of his plating, but at the moment they were merely surface blemishes.

Several stretched and strained cables plagued him, as well as a stiffness in one doorwing that had been caught during his 'escape' with Jazz, but all of that Prowl was accustomed to letting his self repairs see to.

"Right," the CMO nodded and pulled a cable from his arm. "Open up then and let's see what your programming looks like."

Prowl obediently offered a convenient port that would allow the medic the access he needed, the Praxian settling on the berth and arranging his sensor panels to potentially stay a while as both systems worked out the preliminaries.

It was an odd feeling, having an actual professional medic, a _doctor_ who had as much training as the system had to offer, moving through his systems, his unsecured memories, and paying special attention to his protocols and anything that wasn't default. As gruff as Ratchet's exterior manner was, he was actually much gentler than Hook.

~Of course I am, you glitch. _He's_ an engineer with no business working in a medbay, much less in charge of it. _I'm_ a top-ranked physician and surgeon.~

~Your forgiveness if you are a luxury I am not accustomed to. ~ While Prowl had no desire to defend Hook, it was still truth that the Constructicon had at least kept him functional. But now he could also understand the respect with which even the symbiots had referred to this mech's skill with.

Respect that was very hard to earn.

~Nice to know the little monsters remember me,~ Ratchet sounded gruff, but there was an underlying fond frustration to the thought. ~How long _were_ you with Soundwave?~

~From the time I was made an officer. Almost sixteen vorns.~ Prowl answered honestly.

~Enjoy it?~ Ratchet prodded at a protocol that Prowl, then Soundwave, had modified. ~Was he good to you before he got possessive?~

~Very good to me.~ Prowl replied, tolerating the prodding to the protocols without flinching. The smoothing out of the adjustments that Prowl had made by Soundwave to those were adjustments that Prowl hoped even Ratchet would approve of, adjustments that had made Prowl's continued functioning much more pleasant. ~In the end there was simply no more room for compromise.~

Ratchet grunted and moved on to the next protocol that had been tweaked. ~You're good at self-programming. Stop it.~

~I have never done anything unnecessary.~ Prowl pointed out quietly, with the implication that he would do as needed in the future, with or without the medics approval.

~You have never had anyone with _medical_ training to do it either,~ Ratchet growled. ~You leave editing to me. Do you have _any_ idea how badly you can frag yourself with editing?~

Prowl actually had a very good idea, having seen several self edits go wrong. Part of the reason he was so careful whenever he made alterations to his own coding.

~I will come see you, if I can.~ Prowl conceded.

A displeased rumble of the medic's engine warned that he wasn't happy with the concession, but the promise seemed to be enough.

~Tel me about Soundwave,~ Ratchet asked, his tone of more personal interest than professional. ~I knew him when he and his lot were at the Temple in Iacon.~

~What do you wish to know?~ Prowl inquired in return. It was easier for him to manage if he only had to give answers to questions. Answers he could frame in fact without being in danger of wandering into things that could potentially give the truth away. Especially to one who seemed to be as observant as the medic.

Ratchet chuckled. ~Let's start with does he still have just the five symbiots?~ He added image-designation files for the five he knew, the twins barely more than sparklings at the time, though they had their final frames.

~Yes.~ Prowl relaxed a little, sharing updated image files in return. ~They are all still with him. And the twins still delight in causing mayhem where they can.~

~I miss Laserbeak and Ravage sometimes,~ Ratchet admitted, not at all ashamed of the fact. ~Ravage delighted in bringing me 'gifts',~ he chuckled softly at the memories, sharing the first. A final-frame Ravage, less than a vorn old, looking inordinately proud of herself as she pawed at the door of Ratchet's home in the middle of his recharge cycle with a razor rat in her jaws.

~That little bugger had been keeping me awake for decaycles,~ Ratchet reminisced. ~She was so proud to have caught what annoyed me so much.~

Prowl considered the memory, venting softly as he weighed Ratchets obvious affection with his own. ~Out of all them she seemed to approve of me the most. I enjoyed her company, even if all she was doing was sitting in my office as I worked.~ He admitted.

Ratchet hummed thoughtfully. ~You know, it's okay to miss them, miss Soundwave, grieve your loss. He meant a lot to you for vorns, I have no doubt he protected you and helped you. You can talk to me, if you ever feel like reminiscing. I know it's not a sign you're thinking of going back.~

The offer honestly caught Prowl off guard, both in content and in the obvious sincerity behind it. The idea of another individual he would not have to act like he despised his 'former' lover and family in front of was tempting beyond words.

~Thank you. I shall remember that offer. Though anyone with half a logic center could reach the conclusion that returning is not an option if I wish to continue to function. Megatron would make an example of me I would never recover from, if no one else got to me first.~

~That would only account for a handful of mechs,~ Ratchet snorted with a frustrated rumble of his engine. ~_I've_ been accused of being a Con sympathizer because I don't believe Soundwave's the Unmaker incarnate. Just remember there's at least one mech here who was Soundwave's friend before all this happened and still remembers the good spark in him very well. Sooner or later, it's going to hit you. You won't be the first or last I've helped through this kind of thing, and it'll be as confidential as anything in this place. But back to your edits. What in the _Pit_ does this one do?~

Prowl nodded in understanding and thanks before turning his attention to the protocol that Ratchet had picked out. ~Combat boot sequence. It brings all critical systems online before secondary systems. It also bypasses the usual start-up diagnostics on those systems. Much like the one you set off this morning, only more intense.~

He followed Ratchet's attention to a particular line of code. ~Yes, weapons systems are, or at least were where I came from, considered a critical system. Because of how I function that also encompasses my battle and my tactical computers.~

A wordless grumble turned into a mutter about Con society. ~Given you aren't going to have weapons for some time and you're going to be around mechs who are just looking for an excuse to off line you, you'd be better off turning it off. It won't help you here.~

Prowl considered that, running the suggestion through the same tactical and battle computers before offering what he hoped was a reasonable compromise. ~What if you alter it so that my tactical and battle computer still come online, but delete all of the start-up for weapons and combat protocols?~

Ratchet considered that, then nodded before setting to work. Half to Prowl's surprise, the weapons version wasn't deleted, but stored. ~This version will also ping me if it activates more than once a decaorn. Booting this way isn't _healthy_, Prowl, no matter how normal you think it might be.~

Relieved at not having to feel like he was defenseless, Prowl agreed. He hoped that after a while he would not need to boot up like that on a regular basis. ~Acceptable.~

~If the same mech causes it regularly, they'll have _me_ to deal with,~ Ratchet growled. ~There's what they need to do and there's being sadistic. I know the difference no matter what they say. I've got enough work to do. Untangling your processors from a SpecOps Special is not a project I need added. I've got enough bringing Optimus up to speed.~

Prowl worked to contain his reaction to that last statement, burying the tension, the hope, and worry that rose in him all at once at the possibility that Ratchet's statement created in him. Instead he focused on his other surprise, almost confusion at the fact that out of everyone he had met, Ratchet seemed to not hold a grudge against him for the fact that he had been a Decepticon.

~Physician to the Prime gave me a lot of prestige but not a lot of work. I spent most of my off hours in the clinics, volunteering,~ Ratchet explained grimly. ~I was more than a little tempted to join the rebellion. Then I met Megatron. The mech wasn't right, even then. It wasn't as obvious, but it's my function to spot dysfunction. I've always agreed with their original goal. It's their methods and the stability of their leader that turned me away.~

A small shudder from Prowl. How well he knew how far Megatron had fallen, even with the attempts of others to focus and contain him. ~I am not sure they even have a true goal anymore. Not one worth fighting for.~

~Unfortunately. A different leader and it may have been a different story, but with Megatron ... the best way to help the lower castes was still to work on the Prime and through the Senate. That much is a lot easier now, with a new Prime and no Senate. Optimus is nothing like Sentinel in the best ways possible.~

~So there is a new Prime?~ If Ratchet was willing to throw that information out twice they couldn't be trying to keep it that secret. But then, Prowl wasn't sure that he was ever going to be leaving that room he had walked into ever again, so it probably didn't matter if he knew or not.

~Yes,~ Ratchet vented softly. ~I'm not sure what the Matrix was thinking with this one, but Optimus was designated well at least. I think you'll like him for what you're trying to do, and hate him if you're ever his tactician.~

Tension again. ~What I am trying to do? Explanation please. And why would I hate him?~

~Please, we have a solid idea why you joined the Cons in the first place. The incidents with Vondro 5, Caperil, Whistlesong. The caste system that prevented you from gaining any more control over how your efforts were utilized. It may not feel like it, but you were among his earlier recruits. Those who joined when he still mostly believed his words of equality and equal rights. That skill and drive should determine how far a mech goes, not how or why they were created. You still want that. Not to be handed anything, but the right to gain as much as you can earn.

~As for Prime ... what makes him a great leader to rebuild after this mess ... well, you'll see, but he is not keen on some of the harder choices a Prime at war has to make.~

Prowl relaxed, the truth of why he had ever wanted to fight spoken by someone else. Someone who seemed to understand, at least somewhat. Yes, Megatron had given him something to believe in when he had been searching the hardest. And then shattered Prowl's belief that his vision was the way to achieve it, but never Prowl's belief that change was needed.

~He will have to learn, or this war may never end. Or if it does, it will be on Megatron's terms and not his.~ Prowl pointed out quietly.

~Something like that,~ Ratchet agreed as he pulled out of Prowl's processors and unplugged. "When Black Echo's done with you, I'll schedule time to fix all the little things and bring your frame up to my standards of repaired. For now, those cables in your sensor wing are the only thing that needs fixing."

"It would be nice to not have to wait on my repair systems to fix them." Prowl agreed, allowing himself to sound hopeful. Ratchet would not be able to repair them completely, but he could speed the processes considerably.

The CMO grunted and pulled his medkit from subspace. "On your front then."

Obedience as the Praxian stretched out on the berth, sensor wings spread and relaxed, Prowl trusting the medic already to be as careful and as skilled here as he had been in Prowl's processor.

In the background, Prowl could hear, _feel_ Jazz's unease. The possessive rumble of the minibot's racing engine and the responding, much deeper rumble of the more powerful but slower engine the medic had. Yet Prowl could feel the skilled hands working on the cables, knowledgeable fingers as they moved along the delicate structures and then his sensor suite housing and backstrut, out to his shoulders. Every touch seeking hidden damage and overall condition.

A brief twitch of his wings meant to reassure the silver minibot, Prowl calm under Ratchet's care. There was little more actual damage, though Prowl was going to be interested to see what improvement the medic intended to make, if he was allowed.

The corrections to the tension in the cables was a relief, and Prowl made sure to voice his thanks as other sections of his frame affected by those were also relieved.

"I expect to see you in my medbay _regularly_ for maintenance once you're out of here," Ratchet said firmly as he gave Prowl a pat on the shoulder and moved away, signaling he was finished. "Your frame is not one that handles minor neglect well."

"I shall, since that is something I have discovered myself." Prowl said, rising and stretching his sensor wings, cautiously at first than completely in obviously relief before allowing them to settle.

While Jazz's attention was fixed on Prowl's wings, Ratchet made a lighting-fast move and Jazz suddenly slumped forward in shut-down.

Prowl flinched, surprised, and a warning growl escaped him on reflex at the assault on _his_ lover. He had a hard time believing that the medic intended any harm, did not want to believe harm was intended, but newly repaired sensor wings still flared in aggression barely held in check.

"Relax you," Ratchet grumbled at him, though there was a trace of humor in his tone. "_He's_ not as agreeable to a checkup as you are."

"If that was how I was convinced it was time for one I might not be either." Prowl commented, wings relaxing but sharp optics following every move the medic made as he worked on Jazz.

"If you fought me after Black Echo had a full orn working you over for his gratification I'd handle you the same," Ratchet snorted. "Even if Jazz didn't tell you what that mech is like in the berth, I'm sure someone did."

"Not in detail." His tone made it clear that he knew far more than he wanted to know though, and that none of it made him happy, even if this was far out of his control as the abuse some of the Decepticon officers delighted in dishing out.

"He fights you?" Prowl asked, much more reasonable as he continued to watch Ratchet, admiring the medics' skill from a different angle.

"Yes," the CMO grunted, opening panels to check the condition of Jazz's hardware. "He can't stand giving up that much control. Mech doesn't _trust_."

"And it may be that I trust too easily." Prowl said to no one in particular as his attention centered on Jazz. "I am sure he would benefit from your care far more often than he takes advantage of it."

"Oh he would, but then he'd have to explain his modifications more often," Ratchet grumbled. "Mech does more self-programming than you. And believe me, he's the paranoid one. You're the sane one."

Not sure if that added up to a compliment in the end Prowl let it slide, thinking quietly. He had always suspected Jazz did more than he told Prowl, and now he was getting a much broader view of Jazz.

There was still no solid evidence, but everything from the way that Jazz had openly made a demand of Black Echo when they had first arrived to his refusal of regular medical care with someone who was as skilled as Ratchet made him question exactly what kind of role Jazz played among the Autobots. The silver mechs own beliefs, those that he had shared with Prowl, his concern for the common grunt, had never lined up with modern Decepticon ideals.

Prowl had never dug too deep when it came to Jazz, his function, and his dealing of information. He still wouldn't, for the time being. What was important to him he already knew about the mech.

He loved Jazz, and truly believed that Jazz felt something for him, whatever others might say. And for now that was enough.

Ratchet closed up the minibot's ports and turned him back on.

"Was that _really_ necessary?" Jazz growled with a glare for Ratchet.

"For you, yes," the CMO smirked. "I know what kind of editing you do when I can't keep an optic on you."

Jazz huffed and glared, but didn't actually contradict him.

Ratchet snickered. "Finish your morning fun, and don't forget your energon. Black Echo'll be back in a joor," he added before turning to leave.

Hiding his own amusement until the medic was gone Prowl held out a hand, inviting Jazz to join him.

"Damn medic," Jazz grumbled as he climbed into Prowl's lap and claimed a kiss. "Now ... where were we?"

"Coming down from a rather nice wake-up high when he separated us." Prowl replied, settling Jazz on his lap better to run his hands over the minibot's back. "He seemed rather irritated with you."

"Yeah, Ratchet absolutely _hates_ it when mechs do their own upgrades and editing," Jazz chuckled. "I'm one of the few who still refuses to accept that he knows more than I do about my own systems and it drives him crazy."

"You do not trust him?" Prowl asked, curious as he nuzzled at Jazz's helm, content for the moment with simply holding the minibot while they had a few moments of peace.

"With life and death? Absolutely," Jazz said without hesitation. "With the little tweaks I'm constantly making to make my functioning better but aren't in the specs? He takes them out as soon as he finds them. It'll take me a couple orns to fix what he just did."

"So why the growl when he fixed my sensor wings?" Prowl asked, stretching them again just because he could.

Jazz sighed and slumped, tucking his head against Prowl's chest before he answered. "I was jealous, okay? I _know_ he can offer a lot more than me and he'd be interested in trying."

Prowl shook his head, finally resigning himself to the fact that he could not seem to escape other mechs attentions wherever he was. Holding Jazz tightly against him he teased at a sensor horn until the silver mech lifted his head so that Prowl could claim a kiss from.

Fierce and possessive, engine rumbling enough to carry through both frames, Prowl broke off to look at Jazz. "He may try all he likes, but he will get no farther than the others." He promised.

A peppering of kisses that tried to cover the near-sob from Jazz, then a longer, sensual kiss. "I don't deserve you, but I'm grateful," Jazz whispered. "I can never return that loyalty."

Leaning his helm against the smaller mech, gazes locked, Prowl simply held him. "I would never ask you to."

He knew what Jazz was, and he loved Jazz because he was _Jazz_. That the silver mech felt anything for him in return was enough for Prowl, and he flared his field gently, love and acceptance and thankfulness and peace woven through it.

All of it for Jazz, because of Jazz.

A low, nearly chocked-off sob vibrated against Prowl's neck as Jazz took in Prowl's field, then flared his own. Respect, lust, desire, affection ... even joy rippled between them in Jazz's reply.

"It's enough." Prowl promised him again, speaking truth. What Jazz was willing and able to give him was enough, and he made sure to echo the Jazz's joy and affection with his own as he smiled at the mech.

"Everything I can give you is yours," Jazz promised softly, honestly, and for a rare moment in his functioning, he was truly content to simply press close and soak in the acceptance and desire Prowl so willingly offered.

Jazz, against all odds, against all programming, had a lover.

He was not going to give this feeling up for anything.


	25. Prime Entry

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Tactile, Torture  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (anhrefn-hyfryd .livejournal .com/22919 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 25: Prime Entry<p>**

* * *

><p>Optimus Prime strode down the corridors of the SpecOps base with far more confidence than he felt in his spark. Yes, he was the Prime, and with the Senate gone he was in charge of <em>everything<em>, not just what previous Primes did. A dockworker turned Autobot frontliner turned Prime. What the Matrix saw in him he still did not understand. He was still learning to _read_ more than Autobot basic. He was still getting used to his new frame for that matter.

But here and now he had a goal. He wanted to catch his SIC and Special Operations commander at least slightly off guard.

SpecOps was SpecOps, as he was constantly reminded, but there were things about the SIC that still troubled him, things that he was never going to find out if he confronted the mech directly.

A sudden rumble of thunder from behind him, and then the sound of what was becoming very familiar grumbling and cursing as the thunder revealed itself to be a large black mech.

"For the last time, _wait on me_ for Primus sake. Ya can't go charging off alone like that now." Ironhide. Personal bodyguard and watchdog of the new Prime. And currently one very irritated large black mech. "Especially here." He added in a softer growl.

"Do you truly believe I am in danger in the heart of an Autobot stronghold?" Optimus looked back at his guardian, the mech now charged with ensuring he survived.

"At least for now you're in danger anywhere." Ironhide grumbled, though the bite was mostly gone from his voice. He wasn't going to point out that the last Prime had been murdered in the Palace, where he should have been guarded and safe. It was hard to stay irritated with Optimus long, especially when the mech was trying to do what everyone was pushing him to do and be a strong leader.

He was well aware of how completely unprepared the mech was for the duties of Prime. He hadn't even become a squad leader yet, though both Ironhide and Kup agreed he'd have been ready soon. He had shown leadership potential under stress and a willingness to follow his instincts.

But it was still deeply ingrained in Ironhide to protect, and his spark was still hurting from his failure. He couldn't trust Optimus with anyone.

Then a door opened to the Prime's override command and Ironhide got a glimpse of a mostly white and black Praxian with three full sensor panels on each wing trembling uncontrollably on the berth. His frame was curled tightly to try to protect his spark, but it wasn't a physical attack that he was suffering. It was Black Echo plugged into him.

They were currently the only two occupants of the rather oddly furnished room, Ironhide noted, just as he noted anything that could be of threat to his Prime. The instant this was confirmed in his processor he turned his attention back to the Praxian and the SIC, and to his Prime.

The SpecOps mech was caught off guard enough that his surprise showed for just an instant, then melted into clear displeasure at being interrupted, not twitching when his current victim jerked violently on the berth.

"Prime," Black Echo said calmly. "He's not ready to speak yet."

"What, exactly, are you looking for?" Optimus demanded even as he stepped into the room, his optics focused on the twitching Praxian. He scowled when a small whimper reached his audios.

"Why he defected, in full," Black Echo said, suddenly distracted. "Have a seat, Prime. We'll be done soon."

With a look that was half fascinated and a lot disturbed, Optimus sat down in the largest chair and watched.

Ironhide moved with him, a quiet shadow that for once was holding his own opinion on the issue to himself as he took up a silent watch behind his Prime.

With his audience settled Black Echo returned to his work, the Praxian on the berth reacting to whatever he was doing by managing to curl in on himself even more, optics dark and sensor panels hugged close to his frame, trembling with strain.

It was disturbing to watch, but even more disturbing to catch the occasional signs that Black Echo was seriously getting off on it. Ironhide had always known SpecOps mechs were a bit twisted; the nature of their function saw to that, but to _watch_ it inflicted on a mech who would potentially be an Autobot officer ... the big mech suppressed a shudder.

Three breems of relative silence, the only sounds that of internals working and the Praxian's occasional whimper or small cry, and suddenly the Praxian went limp, exhausted and barely able to twitch now that he wasn't fighting anymore.

Black Echo unplugged himself, stored his cables away and turned to Prime. "All yours, though I'd give him a breem and that energon on the table before expecting him to be remotely coherent."

There was moment of silence. "You got what you were after then?"

"Enough of it, yes," Black Echo nodded before he left the room, leaving Prime alone with the still quivering Praxian and a bodyguard that was struggling with conflicting protocols.

Optimus waited until the door closed before glancing up. "Ironhide?"

"War is dirty, Optimus, and SpecOps is the blackest side of it. But-." He moved for the energon on the table, clearly unhappy. Ironhide was willing to fight, willing to do what was necessary to win the war and protect his Prime, but he preferred to meet his opponents on the battlefield.

"Black Echo goes as far as he needs to. He does his job well. But I don't have to like anyone who _likes_ doin' this," he indicated the drained Praxian on the berth. "Ta others. Especially ones who are potential allies."

Energon in hand he approached the berth, freezing when his mere approach made the Praxian flinch back weakly, the reaction clearly instinctual.

With a deep intake of air, Optimus activated the special addition to his vocalizer and hummed, filling the room with a soothing energy that reacted directly with the spark of those present.

Ironhide waited, watching and still amazed at the effect even after all this time.

A small shiver from the Praxian, optics coming online slowly, unfocused and clearly confused as he looked around weakly. Ironhide came into view again, only adding to the confusion.

Prowl wanted to move away but lacked the strength, and beyond that his spark was insisting that he was in no danger. He wanted Jazz, wanted an explanation, wanted the confusion and pain in his processor to go away, and his vocalizer crackled with static as he tried to speak.

"Drink, Prowl," Optimus ordered gently. "It will clear your processors."

Ironhide moved again when it was clear the Praxian wasn't going to be able to move on his own, supporting the mech and holding the energon so that Prowl could obey.

The Praxian still wasn't sure what was going on, but as soon as he tasted the energon his systems responded automatically, taking it in as quickly he was allowed. The words started to make sense as his energy levels rose and could finally be put towards something besides basic survival functioning.

Ironhide relinquished the rest of the cube and moved away to a more comfortable distance as soon as it was obvious that Prowl had the strength to finally support himself, observing the Praxian just as the Praxian was clearly studying them.

Optimus gave the Praxian as much time as he needed, waiting until his movements steadied and optics focused before speaking.

"I apologize for the welcome you have received, Prowl," Optimus began somewhat formally.

Sensor wings folded in acknowledgment and submission as Prowl managed to force himself into something of an upright position. "It was anticipated...sir."

In his spark he was sure he knew who this mech was, but after that he was going to err on the side of caution of for a bit.

"It is still regrettable. I am Optimus Prime. My shadow is Ironhide," he said with a teasing tone for the large black mech. "Do you feel up to speaking with me?"

"Of course, my Prime." Necessity and the energon he had been given were bringing his processor back to full functioning, attention flickering to the door before returning to focus fully on the mech.

Optimus nodded. "Tell me, in your own words, why you are here. All the reasons."

Prowl's processor stuttered for a moment as he tried to organize all of that back into some coherent order after having his well organized processor shredded against his will.

Finally he vented, optics focusing once more. "I am here because this war needs to end. I am here because things need to change, but not at the cost of innocent lives." He wished it could be at the cost of no lives, but he also knew that to be a hopeless wish.

"I am here because I no longer wish to serve someone who only wishes to serve himself. And I am here..." Prowl stopped, considering his words carefully. "I am here because I had to make a choice."

Optimus nodded, listening with more than his audio receptors. "What did you have to choose between, Prowl?"

"I had to choose between what my spark wanted and what needed to be done so that someday I might have what my spark wants." He would not lie to this mech. He had not wanted to leave Soundwave, and only by ending this war with a true leader ready to make changes would he finally be able to rejoin his love and have his family together and safe.

Optimus leaned back, reading between the spoken words in a way that still confounded him but he was becoming accustomed to. He knew it was something he'd always had, social connectivity programming that made him a natural leader, but when the Matrix entered him it had become a thousand times more powerful and utterly dominated his processor more often than not.

He _saw_ the truth, the motivations, of everyone around him. From little things he would eventually learn to ignore when not needed, to the big things, like now, with what Prowl wasn't saying without lying.

With a thoughtful hum Optimus regarded his opponent, a mech that screamed 'friend' to that programming.

"What is it your spark desires enough to changes sides and leave what you desire so much behind?"

"My family together and safe, in a world where we have a chance to be happy." He wanted Soundwave and the symbiots and Jazz all together with a chance for all of them to function and find joy in that functioning.

Prowl found joy in functioning when he was allowed to do as he had been programmed to do- organize and plan for the benefit and the protection of the masses.

Jazz should be able to find joy in his functioning without the fear that someone else could order the end to his functioning for a profit and be justified in doing so.

Soundwave deserved a chance to serve a Prime as he was meant to, not living the life he was now because his Prime had asked him to, and the symbiots able to live as something besides tools of war.

"Your family agrees with your choice, with your goal?" Optimus asked evenly.

"Yes." Of this at least, Prowl was sure. It had not been easy on any of them. He had spent the last recharge cycle he had playing games with the symbiots and recharging with Soundwave. The entire plan had been made between the two of them.

And Jazz was in on a great deal of the plan. The choice to stay if they all lived to see the end was his own, but Prowl was willing to fight just so he had the chance to make that decision.

A slow nod, almost regal, and fathomless blue optics locked on Prowl's yellow ones. "What is your goal, Prowl?"

"To see a Prime," he looked directly at Optimus, tired optics full of truth and the barest glint of hope, "set things right and lead Cybertron."

"Tell me the changes you wish to see happen," Optimus asked even as he unsubspaced a cube of energon and rose to take it to Prowl.

"Not total equality." Prowl clarified first. "That is not practical. But equal chance to choose their own fate, and to function as Primus intended. I- pre-programmed mechs have no rights. Cannot really fight anything done to them. I would see them treated as sparks, and not drones. To see any spark able to move beyond their 'given' function if they have the desire and the ability to do so. I-"

Prowl stopped, frame shaking some. The Senate had created so many wrongs in the name of making things 'right' that there was little that did not need to be changed.

"The end of the caste system in favor of a merit based one. That all mechs will have the freedom to pursue their dreams," Optimus summarized, regarding Prowl thoughtfully as he offered the energon - part of his own supply - to the trembling mech. "Perhaps that is closer to happening than anyone thought possible."

Prowl accepted it gratefully, looking up at the Prime in surprise and open curiosity. "How?"

"I was sparked a dock worker," he said simply as he returned to his seat. "Now I am Prime. Even if it is not a change I sought, I understand the lower castes and limits of this system better than most with in power."

Relief and understanding washed over Prowl, and true hope. His part in the plans might not be as difficult as he first feared. If he never made it into this Prime's confidences things still might change for the better. "Indeed you would."

"Now, what would you do for me to end this war?" Optimus asked.

"What would you have me do?" Prowl asked, perfectly reasonable. Prowl knew what his skills were, had an idea of where he would be of the most use, but he would do as the Prime asked if it was within his ability.

"What you would be of most benefit to my war efforts," Optimus answered without answering. "I know you are an exemplary tactician, but is that what you are _best_ at?"

"Planning, organizing." Prowl replied instantly. "It was my original function. The battle and tactical computers that were installed tied into that programming easily. There was almost no integration process before they were fully functional."

He considered for a moment before adding. "I have developed acceptable combat and marksmanship skills since the start of the war, and I have seen combat, if that is how you would have me serve."

Optimus Prime hummed thoughtfully, his look setting Ironhide on edge.

::Prime, we don't even know if he's an infiltrator yet!::

::I am well aware of his status, Ironhide,:: Optimus replied. ::It is an excellent test for him.::

"I would have you begin by reviewing the governmental and military structure, distribution and supply lines for efficiency," Prime hid a smile behind his battle mask. "Present me with recommendations for improving them."

"Sir." Prowl straightened, a light appearing in his optics. Something to do besides sit around and wait for Black Echo to come and take information by force that for the most part the Praxian would have given him willingly? Prowl would have reviewed the waste disposal systems as an alternative if given the option.

Not that all of the time with Jazz had been unpleasant. Jazz... Prowl's attention drifted to the door again, concern starting to surface at the mech's continued absence.

Prime pinged the base mainframe for Jazz location and found him in the private quarters of another mech.

"I believe Jazz is fine," Optimus offered. "He should be back within the joor. He is far more than a friend to you."

Prowl relaxed, already starting to trust this mech somewhat. "He is much more than a friend." He agreed quietly, part of what Prowl considered his family, though he never asked Jazz if the mech was interested in being a part of that unit. When the Prime reached into his subspace it caught Prowl's attention. His optics followed the data cube and half dozen datapads out as they were stacked on the table.

"This should be all you need to perform your analysis of what I inherited. The datapads are blank," Optimus smiled behind his mask as Prowl's optics lit up with anticipation. "I will see about having you assigned to proper temporary quarters."

"Thank you, sir." Prowl murmured, meaning it from his spark as he tore his optics from the offered data to focus on the mech who had given it to him.

In the background he could still see the large black mech, Ironhide, twitching at the fact that Prowl was being handed all of that information and being just _left_ with it. Prowl spared a moment for him, determined as he had not been since he had walked through that door orns ago.

He would take what he had been given. He would take it apart and put it back together, improved. And when he was done...maybe he would at least be deemed worthy of being let out of this room as the Prime had hinted.

As Prowl took the final sips of his energon, belated realizing that it was much finer quality than what he'd had before, he watched the new Prime stand and leave, his unhappy and twitching bodyguard always between the leader and the defector.

Disposing of the cube Prowl stood carefully, checking his balance before crossing the room to check and sort all that he had been left with it.

The datapads were just as the Prime had said, blank and waiting to be filled with his work. The storage cube ... a shiver ran through Prowl as he accessed the initial data he was to look over. The bodyguard had been right to be hesitant to leave it in the presence of someone of supposedly questionable loyalty. Even though little if any was actually classified, Prowl could bring the entire army to its knees with concentration of information stored here.

Or he could fix it in such a way as to give the Autobots the advantage.

Choosing one of the larger chairs that gave him plenty of room to move sensor wings around, Prowl set up the first datapad to his preferred format and went to work.

He only glanced up when the door slid open and Jazz walked through, looking fairly scuffed up but smiling in a very self-satisfied, content that Prowl hadn't seen in a while.

Content himself, Prowl smiled as well, optics moving over his lover curiously. "You're back. I was starting to worry."

"Sorry, lover," Jazz draped himself over the edge of the chair and kissed him deeply, languidly. "Mmm, I was enjoying myself. It's a rarity for a masi to want me."

"Hmmm?" Prowl hummed quietly, still curious but not in any hurry now that Jazz was back and he knew that the mech had been enjoying himself.

"Masochist," Jazz chuckled and squirmed his way to straddle Prowl's lap. "I don't have a strong bent that way, but sometimes it feels good to get the frustration out."

Prowl shook his head, amused. "Just so long as you enjoyed yourself." He stated quietly, wrapping his arms around Jazz and holding him close. "He did say you were all right."

"Who?" Jazz pressed close, his engine purring.

"The Prime."

"Wha?" Jazz jerked his helm back to look Prowl in the optics, then pouted. "I _missed_ seeing him?"

Prowl nodded, leaning forward to kiss Jazz lightly. "Sorry. I do not believe he was expected."

"Not your fault, babe," Jazz murmured into a kiss and snuggled against him again. "It's just not often you get a chance to meet the _Prime_, you know?"

"I suspect he will be back, at some point. He left me a project to work on. And...he mentioned the possibility that I might be out of here sooner than expected." Gentle hands started working over Jazz's armor, pausing at each scuff and scrape to feel for anything that might need more than cosmetic attention before moving on.

Jazz perked up with a delighted grin and kissed Prowl hard and eagerly in a mini celebration. "What is he having you work on?"

"He wants analysis and suggestions for that." He tilted his helm in the direction of the data storage cube. "Government and military structure, divisions of authority, command flow, resources and budgeting..." Prowl smiled a little. "Important data that most mechs don't want to have to deal with."

"But what you groove on," Jazz purred, nuzzling him. "So do you want to celebrate by working, or a processor blowing overload or six?"

"Your fun wasn't enough?" Prowl asked, tone making it perfectly clear that he was teasing. If Jazz wanted he wasn't going to object, having gotten the data organized enough so that when he did start in earnest it should flow relatively quickly.

"Enough I'm not fidgety, but I do enjoy interfacing with you much more," Jazz purred, his field rich with desire as it lapped at Prowl's. "I've gotten quite addicted to this pleasure without pay thing we have going."

Prowl let his own pleasure at that show, wrapping his field around the mech as he kissed him deeply and affectionately. "So have I. I can be done working for a while. And you know I enjoy simply having you _here_, whatever we are doing."

"Then indulge me?" Jazz asked, his voice low and seductive as he rubbed his chassis against Prowl's in an open display of desire. "Tell me a new fantasy to play out. Anything that makes you hot to think about."

Prowl hummed softly, optics growing dim as he thought about it, then kissed a sensor horn softly. "You were my first, you know."

"I know," Jazz moaned. "Soundwave made it _very_ clear to me that I wasn't to slag it up. He didn't think it was right to approach you to share his berth when you didn't know what it meant yet."

Prowl had suspected something like that, though it had never meant enough to him to actually ask. Instead he kissed Jazz, asking softly. "Treat me like that again? Like I don't know anything and you are showing me how to enjoy pleasure?"

A tremor ran down Jazz's backstrut as his fans kicked in. "Oh, babe ... I'd _love_ to." A low, deep thrum vibrated against Prowl's chest as Jazz leaned into a soft, chaste kiss. "Come to the berth. Let me show you what a lover can be."

Prowl let go of the silver mech, allowing Jazz to take the lead, following him across the room to the berth and stopping at the edge like he had before when he had no idea what Jazz was going to do to him. Only that it was supposed to feel good. He didn't hesitate when Jazz guided him to lay down, his vulnerable back and sensor wings expose but supported but the padded berth.

He felt Jazz's weight settle over his hips and it generated entirely different sensations then that first time, but the skills hands that swept along the panels of his sensor wings were very much the same.

"Relax and enjoy, Prowl," Jazz cooed. "Such a beautiful mech, you must be stunning lost in pleasure."

Giving in to the touch, his wings spreading and relaxing under the hands, a whimper escaping from him at the words and the encouragement. Ripples of pleasure ran through his frame, waves of sensation generated by each sweep of those wonderful hands. He felt the charge rise slowly as Jazz made no effort to hurry him, seemingly content to enjoy causing the small sounds and twitches.

It was so different than what they usually did. This slow buildup wasn't something they did often anymore, too enamored with the fast, intense and mutually satisfying overloads their PIMs provided.

A soft moan from Prowl, his sensor wings rising just a bit to press back into the touches as he did start to loose himself in the pleasure. There was something about the slow build-up that clouded his processor so that all he could do was feel what was happening and revel in it. He could hear Jazz talking, but recognized the tone and cadence as the silver mech encouraging him and didn't worry about the exact contents. Jazz loved to talk, to use words and voice as well as his frame to draw pleasure out of those he was with.

Prowl was only partially aware when Jazz's tone changed. The hitch and static in his voice that indicated his charge was growing impatient for release.

A whimper from Prowl at the change he could feel as well as hear, and his frame started to tremble underneath Jazz, a sign of how close he was. Close enough to fall into the abyss of bliss with the right kind of push, field flared already to drag his lover with him.

"Oh, Prowler," Jazz moaned, his field flaring in return, pushing hard and deep into Prowl's chassis to brush against his spark casing and the spark Jazz had grown dangerously fond of.

A wordless cry of pleasure from Prowl as overload charge flared through and over his frame as the brush so close to his spark. A sound of pure bliss that echoed in the room, signaling deep release that knocked the Praxian offline.


	26. A Room of Their Own

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 26: A Room of Their Own<p>**

* * *

><p>Jazz was curled in Prowl's lap, content to lounge against the larger mech's chest while Prowl worked on his assignment from the Prime. It was more enjoyable than he'd thought possible to watch his lover work when Prowl was <em>excited<em> about that work. It made Jazz purr to feel Prowl so happy.

It wasn't enough to stop him from jumping half out of his armor when the door slid open and Black Echo snarled "Pack it up and move. Now."

The fear edged tension that filled Prowl and carried into his field didn't help matters as the Praxian froze momentarily from the dark mech's sudden appearance.

Regaining his composure, if not his comfort, Prowl gently shifted Jazz from his lap before gathering his datapads. Checking each of them before turning them off, Prowl stacked and subspaced them with the central storage unit.

Standing, he glanced around to make sure there was nothing he had missed and waited.

"Well come on," Black Echo ordered sharply as he turned around and stalked out. "If I find out you're a 'path you are a dead mech, no matter what I have to do."

Prowl glanced at Jazz, confused and wary as he moved to follow the SpecOps mech, Jazz all but magnetized to his side and looking equally confused. All three remained silent as they were guided out of the SpecOps sector and into the primary Autobot base in Iacon. They walked into open and well-lit corridors, gathering curious looks as they moved with a purposeful stride. Jazz had to almost run to keep up with the much longer sides of the larger mechs.

Out in the open Prowl relaxed enough to reach out and touch Jazz, though his sensors were still on high alert for even a hint of threat or aggression. It came, though it seemed to be rather random. It only took Prowl's tactical computer a few examples to work out that the aggressive mechs were ones who he had gotten close to on the battlefield and likely recognized him as a ranking Decepticon despite his current lack of insignia.

Well, they would get over it in time, or not. Prowl was used to a hostile environment where his continued functioning was under constant threat, and he knew how to deal with it. A sensor wing curled protectively around Jazz though, and the Praxian frowned. He would have to speak with the smaller mech once they were in private once more about the threat.

They worked their way deeper into the base, and it abruptly dawned on Prowl that they had entered the officer's barracks. He just managed to keep from twitching in surprise at the realization, even more confused. Officer's areas became _commanding_ officer's areas and Black Echo came to a stop, punching in a code on the panel next to the door, then plugging in when a small panel slid back.

"Your quarters," he said gruffly as the door opened. "You," he looked pointedly at Prowl, "are restricted to quarters until further notice. "You," his gaze shifted to Jazz, "have your usual clearance and don't think I'm not tracking you both every nanoklik."

Questions tumbled through Prowl's processor in jumble, though all that made it out was "Understood."

He touched Jazz's shoulder gently, an invitation for the mech to join him as he made his way past the clearly displeased ops mech and into the quarters that were now apparently _his_.

The door shut and locked behind Prowl and Jazz and they both stopped to look around.

Jazz was the first to react with an impressed whistle. "Damn, whatever you said to the Prime must have made him _happy_. These are VIP quarters. Entry room, that door's going to be the berth room with a private wash rack. That door's your office. There's probably an energon dispenser somewhere, and that entertainment center's _nice_. It's going to take orns to properly initiate it all."

"Indeed..." Prowl agreed slowly stepping carefully deeper into the room, disbelief rolling off of him. This was even nicer what he had once shared with Soundwave, and something that Prowl never thought he would have as his _own_.

Despite the fact that he was standing in the middle of them Prowl still wasn't sure that someone hadn't made a mistake somewhere. He turned back to Jazz. "You think this is the Prime's doing?"

"Can you think of anyone else that can give Black Echo, the Autobot SIC, orders? That mech was _furious_. No way he was done with you." Jazz pointed out sensibly. "Godda be Prime."

Prowl's sensor panels drooped in relief at just the idea that the SIC might be done with him, that this apparent rise in favor might be an end to _that_."I hope you are right."

More curious now he touched door the room that Jazz had identified as his office, finding a functional room the size of his old personal quarters with a full workstation, a chair designed for extended use by someone of his frametype and an actual holotable positioned for him to be able to walk around.

Still in awe he moved on to the berthroom and found a much larger space, a deeply padded berth large enough for Prime ... which made it _more_ than large enough for Prowl, Jazz and one or two others.

"Oh _wow_!" Jazz broke Prowl's stunned state by taking a flying leap onto the berth and bouncing several times like a playful sparkling. "Prowl, you have _got_ to feel this! It's awesome!"

The larger mech couldn't help but laugh at Jazz antics, the playfulness and excitement infectious as he crossed the room at a more controlled pace and obediently took seat on the berth.

Jazz was right. From the way his frame sank into the padding Prowl was sure that cramped sensor wings were a thing of the past. He pressed a hand into it, testing it again and still stunned that someone had gone through the apparent trouble of tailoring quarters to meet his specific needs.

No, even more than his needs, going clear past his needs to his actual _comfort_.

Jazz bounced over and settled on his knees next to Prowl to pull him into a happy, playful kiss. "This place is incredible. If you have to be under home arrest, you have to admit this place is the way to do it. Who needs to leave?"

"You'll get restless soon enough, I'm sure." Prowl answered with a smile and a kiss of his own as he pulled Jazz against him. "But if I am to stay somewhere, so long as you return, I believe I will be quite content here."

"I'll always return," Jazz promised, his visor dimming in desire as he leaned closer for a kiss. "I'll always be driven to wander, but I will always come back to you," he murmured, something in his manner making it an oath.

A shared kiss before Prowl held him close, stroking the silver mech's back as he took a moment to think about what he needed to say. "You know I love you. Love having you with me. But here..."

"Mmm?" Jazz prompted him to continue as he enjoyed being close to the same height as Prowl with the larger mech sitting.

Prowl nuzzled at him gently, affectionately. "I do not know that I will ever be accepted here. There are those who I am sure recognized me as we passed through the base. Many who I am sure want revenge. I do not want you hurt because of me."

"I'm fast and I can defend myself if it comes to it," Jazz murmured assurances. "Prowl," he made sure the larger mech met his optics. "I gave up my livelihood and made myself a major target for any Decepticon wanting to get in Soundwave's good graces - which would be nearly _all_ of them - just to follow you here. If you think a few Autobots who might be willing to break the laws of hospitality are going to chase me off you need your logic chips checked."

When it came to Jazz Prowl was sure he needed his logic inspected, because logic rarely played into anything where the silver minibot was concerned.

"When you put it that way I have little room to talk." He conceded. "But from what you have told me of your functioning you are going to have a hard time here if no one wants anything to do with you. Or is your role among the Autobots different?"

"I've got a very big city out there, even if half of it is in ruins," Jazz kissed him gently then rested their forehelms together. "Yes, I sold them intel too. Did a few other things for Black Echo when he paid that I'm not real proud of. But ... when it comes right down to it, my code only demands one paid basic contract an orn over the decaorn. It might not pay for much, but here I don't have to pay for my energon or housing. I can get enough action for my code to be content."

"That still isn't all you do for them, is it?" It wasn't an accusation, but an observation as Prowl continued to run his hands over silver armor. "You are far more than you care to have known."

"Keeps me safe," Jazz murmured. "I do what I'm paid to do, when it comes down to it. Some folks get real creative with what my talents can do. Black Echo likes me, and not just in his berth. He finds all kinds of weird and _creepy_ uses for me."

"Talk?" It was a question to know more, and an offer to listen if Jazz wanted. Prowl would force nothing from him, but he would be there for him.

"Seems to a Ops mech, a talent for reading and manipulating mechs has a lot of uses," Jazz pressed close and shivered, all sensualness drained from them both. "I always used it to please my clients. It's all I _thought_ it was meant for. Then Black Echo decided to put me in a room with a Decepticon prisoner and told me to break him, turn him. I found out much later that he'd been trying for metacycles to accomplish what I did in a dozen orns. I got paid a small fortune for it, but existence was never quite the same after that," Jazz lowered his forehelm to Prowl's shoulder and trembled. "I've never been able to forget how close pleasing and breaking are to each other, from a skill point of view. In a lot of ways, it was the end of my innocence, the end of my existence as 'just' a pleasurebot. I can't forget what he's taught me about the other uses of my core programming. How little difference there is between reading and manipulating a mech to please them and doing it to hurt them."

Prowl shuddered and held Jazz tight, kissing his helm gently, seeking anything to comfort the smaller mech that he could. "Jazz...no one should have to learn that. Wish you hadn't." Even if it was far to late to undo, Prowl could still mourn the fact that it caused Jazz pain.

"I'm good at it, hate doing it, but it pays so well I haven't been able to turn him down yet," Jazz murmured. "I'd much rather be in his berth for an orn than spend an orn breaking someone. But I can't say no to that many credits for so little work."

Prowl _understood_ on a level beyond words as Jazz began to tremble against him, grief, self-hatred and anger rolling off the minibot in waves.

"It won't let you avoid him either, will it?" Prowl guessed quietly.

"You ever tried to avoid a mech like him?" Jazz shuddered and began to pull himself together. "He's made it clear that he's quite willing to label me a Decepticon and stick my ID as a high-value target if I try. I could hide from him ... but not from what he can do."

Prowl hummed soothingly, hating how everyone he cared about was suffering form this war. "Easy love. Easy. I am here." It was all he had to offer, and he knew it wasn't enough.

"Best thing that's happened to me since I bought myself," Jazz murmured, slowly packing away his pain and self-hatred so he could relax in the embrace and calm EM field that he admitted he was addicted to. "You really are."

Embarrassment flickered through Prowl at what to him was high praise. So happy that Jazz considered him so. "Love you. Here for you, whatever I can do."

"_Being_ here is worth more than you can imagine," Jazz said, his tone low and as serious as it ever was. "First stable thing, really _stable_ thing, I've had in a long time. Never knew how bad I wanted it until I got hooked on you. Everyone else who wanted to be my lover wanted me to change too, to give up being a pleasurebot ... like I was one of those poor mechs who was reduced to selling themselves. I'm _proud_ of what I am, what I've accomplished. What I was sparked to excel at."

"And excel you do." Prowl said, completely honest. "Love you for who you are. You don't have to change for me. I wouldn't want you to, for the most part."

"What would you have change?" Jazz asked, hiding any trace of unease masterfully.

"Nothing that you can help." Prowl assured him. "I wish that you did not go into danger. I wish that you were not forced to do things you did not want to do. I wish I could give you the functioning you deserve."

Jazz hummed softly in understanding, acceptance, agreement.

"Love, I am rarely in danger," Jazz murmured, trying to reassure him. "I many be damaged, but I'm always repaired very well." He tipped Prowl's chin into a soft, tender kiss. "You'll get no argument about doing what I don't want to, but _look_," Jazz pulled back slightly, motioning around the quarters they now shared. "_Look_ at where we live, Prowl. What more do you hope to give me?"

"Peace." Prowl murmured, deciding he was going to have to quit debating with the silver mech. He seemed to be loosing, in the broadest of terms, far more often then he was winning. "Want you to be happy."

Jazz hummed and leaned in to kiss him gently. "You come pretty close when it's just the two of us."

A soft kiss shared, full of affection, before Prowl tilted his helm, looking at Jazz questioning what more the silver mech desired from him.

"We'll end this war," Jazz murmured, more promise than request. "For tonight..." he hesitated, _knowing_ what he wanted most was not an evening that would appeal to his lover. Knowing, too, that Prowl would do it if he asked. It was difficult, sometimes, when they were both such interfacing submissives. "Tonight ... just hold me and don't ask questions," he slid his fingers down Prowl's cheek as he asked for his second choice. It was one that was very dear to him, much more difficult to ask for, yet still not as fulfilling.

Prowl nodded, pulling him close again as he sank back on the berth, drawing the silver mech up to kiss and stroke him.

Soft, grateful sounds and flickers in Jazz's EM field wrapped around Prowl as Jazz sank against him, gradually relaxing. It was only when he'd cycled nearly halfway into recharge that the trembling began. A quiet sob followed as everything Jazz regretted doing began to surface, the silver mech finally feeling safe enough to start to processes and let go of regrets he had no real control over.

And in response to his pain came love and acceptance from the mech that held him, soothing touches and whispered nothings from one who loved him as he was, demons and all.


	27. On The Prime's Orders

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 27: On The Prime's Orders<p>**

* * *

><p>Prowl shuddered and moaned as he leaned back in his office chair, taking a hard-earned break from his work for the Prime to the pleasurable work of satisfying his lover.<p>

His initial work had been met with great approval, leading to another assignment just as complex and just as suited to _Prowl_. With something to do now Jazz was starting to see firsthand just what a workaholic Prowl could be, and was determined to make sure the Praxian did not slip too far into his old ways.

His determination often leading to forced breaks like this, though if Prowl found the interruptions irritating one would not have been able to tell from his enthusiastic participation. Not when even he admitted he focused better afterward.

At the moment, however, all of Prowl's considerable concentration was focused on the exquisite feel of the slick valve moving along his spike, the cries of pleasure Jazz offered as he clung to Prowl's shoulders and the heat of the minibot's frame in his hands as they rocked together.

Prowl was far enough gone to the pleasure that he _almost_ ignored the incoming comm, but for who the originator was.

Optimus Prime.

Prowl groaned, venting sharply as he caught Jazz's lips, not wanting to leave this unfinished. The kiss he received in reply only heated them both. Jazz's valve rippled around Prowl's spike as their glossa dueled.

Despite the intense distraction, Prowl opened the comm line. ::Yes, my Lord Prime?::

::I hope I am not disrupting you,:: Prime's deep, rolling voice washed over Prowl. ::I would speak to you and Jazz in person. A guard should arrive within a breem to escort you to my office.::

::Yes sir. We will be waiting.:: Prowl responding, managing to find the focus to create a coherent response.

::Good,:: Prime said and closed the line.

Prowl hands slipped down to work into Jazz's hip joints as he broke the kiss to nip at a sensory horn. "Prime commed. Wants to see you, me."

"What timing," Jazz moaned, squeezing his valve tighter. "You close enough to overload?"

Knowing fingers dug into his hips in response as Prowl thrust up harder, growling softly. Close enough that he wasn't planning on suffering from stopping now, and wasn't planning on leaving his lover deprived either.

Jazz moaned and shuddered, allowing Prowl to support his full weight and movement as he reached over Prowl's shoulders to stroke the splayed sensor wings.

"Jazz..." Prowl moaned, tilting his head and exposing his neck, asking for the little bit of extra attention that was practically guaranteed to send him over the edge.

"Love you," Jazz trembled and sucked on a main energon line, right on the edge and only holding back so he could feel his lover's transfluid rush into his valve.

A final thrust as Prowl cried out, entire frame shuddering as he overloaded into his lover. It was more than enough for Jazz, who keened and let himself go. The energy of the joint overload roared through them, between them, spiraling and amplified as their systems and sparks reached out to try and make the complete connection both mechs desired.

It left them both crackling as they came down, Jazz quivering in Prowl's lap.

"Beautiful." Prowl praised quietly, kissing Jazz as he strove to regain control of his contentedly purring systems. "Thank you."

"Mutual," Jazz moaned into the kiss as they took a moment more to recover. "You make me feel like no other, Prowl."

Contentment and pleasure at the admission radiated from Prowl. "A fair exchange then," He smiled, "for the one who showed me it was all right to feel."

Jazz smiled and snuggled against him. "Much as I don't want to move, we really should clean up if we're going to meet the _Prime_."

"Agreed." Prowl murmured, stealing one last kiss before carefully untangling their frames.

"We'll finish later." He promised as they walked to the private washrack attached to the berthroom. "I did promise we would be waiting on our guard to arrive."

"It's the Prime," Jazz smiled up and leaned against him. "He's one mech you don't tell 'later' to."

"Not without a very good reason, and as much as I wish otherwise, I do not believe recreational activities fall into that classification." Prowl responded, forcing himself to be content with a quick and affectionate kiss from the smaller mech.

Given his choice he would have forgone cleaning up altogether and spent the time making out with lover, but one did not show up to a meeting with the Prime looking like one had just shared a very pleasurable overload, no matter how true it was.

Forcing himself to focus, the Praxian reached for cleaner that would at least make them presentable. It would have to be quick, they had less than a breem before the guard arrived, but Prowl had long ago learned the art of the quick cleanup and Jazz proved even moved skilled.

They were both ready and followed the blue Bladebrother - Killblade Prowl's memory banks supplied - to the Prime's office. Optimus Prime looked decidedly out of place in the grand office designed by royalty and senators for his lofty status. The mech was doing his best, but to Prowl's optic Optimus wasn't at all comfortable with his rank yet. The two mechs with him, the hulking black Ironhide and the relatively small, slender Black Echo, seemed to blend into the room effortlessly. A lesser mech would likely have missed them, being too focused on the Prime.

It was an easy thing, to figure out where they were meant to stand when addressing the Prime. The designers had made sure of that, Prowl moving to stand before and a respectful distance from the Prime as he also waited for their presence to be acknowledged.

"I apologize for the timing," Optimus' smile was hidden by his battle mask, but it carried clearly in his voice, as did some amusement. "I would like an update on your current project for me."

"Of course sir." Prowl nodded respectfully, not the least bit embarrassed at having been caught out. If one did not expect it with his current rooming arrangements...one would have to be more naive than Prowl was before he met Jazz.

It was a simple matter for one so organized as the Praxian to sum up the project he was working on and deliver a compete and concise summery on where he was, what progress had been made, and the projection for completion. All of which exceeded the original guidelines Prowl had been given without taxing the mech, no matter what Jazz thought.

Report compete, Prowl waited for any feedback or questions from his Prime and officers, confident here as he had never been among the Decepticons that his work was sufficient and his progress pleasing.

"One question," Black Echo stepped forward. "How in the _Pit_ have we lasted this long with you as the Decepticon CTO?"

Prowl did not even have to really consider his answer, vorns of frustration and pain surfacing in an instant at the question, even if none of it showed in his expression or manner. "Plans only work if individuals are willing to follow and implement them. My work was often dismissed or altered when it did not meet desired parameters."

It was irony in the extreme really, that one of the key reasons Prowl had joined the Decepticons has come full circle to plague him in that position as well.

Optimus nodded. "You have expressed a willingness to fully defect, however I wish to ask you again. Do you wish to wear the Autobot brand and serve me in ending the Decepticon threat?"

"Yes sir." Unwavering golden optics, full of conviction, met the Prime's. Prowl was sure of his choice, sure of this in a way that he had not been even when he had joined the Decepticons.

"Very well. Once you have completed your current project I will commission you and introduce you to your fellow officers and the members of my tactical team," Optimus said evenly. "I expect you will have to prove yourself to them in a way you did not to Megatron. However, _I_ believe you, as does Black Echo."

"You've got a crazy processor to sort through, but if you're lying, you're better at it than I am," Black Echo grumbled, as close to a complement and vote of confidence as the mech could manage.

Prowl's processor almost stalled with that. He had expected, planned, on having to spend a considerable amount of time, vorns even, to be noticed enough gain any position of influence. He had expected to be treated with distrust and disgust during his stay. Only to be informed that what was by his farthest estimate a decaorn's worth of work he was looking at a position as a commissioned officer.

There were things that the ops mech still did not know, buried so deeply in Prowl's processor he had to go looking for them. But they were nothing that was going to threaten his Prime or his mission, truth enough apparently for the ops mech.

"I will. Thank you, sir." Prowl finally managed, standing a little straighter than before with a confidence he had never thought he would feel.

"There are conditions," Black Echo spoke up as Optimus sat on the edge of his grand desk. "The first, you are to report to either myself or Prime if you find _any_ hint of a Decepticon sympathizer. It does not matter who or how you cross paths. You will report who they are and what happened in detail."

"We aren't asking you to _look_ for them," Optimus' deep rumble washed over them all. "Merely to report if such things find you."

Prowl weighed that for a moment, testing the wording carefully in his processor before bowing his head in response. They were seeking threats against the Autobot cause, things that he likely would have reported without the condition ever being stated. "I understand."

"The second is that I want Jazz in my division," Black Echo locked optics on the silver minibot.

"What?" Jazz squeaked, shocked and more than a bit panicked.

"Half my division are pleasurebots and the like," Black Echo continued. "They don't go on missions. They're to mingle, socialize, support moral and report problems. Not that different from what you did for Soundwave."

Prowl stretched out his field just enough so that it brushed against Jazz, calm and full of _question/ok?/I'm here_ and some of his personal confusion. "That would between you all," Prowl made sure to catch the Prime's optics as well, "and him."

Jazz brushed back with an uneasy _yes_. "Why?" Jazz managed to kick his processors into gear by focusing on this being just another contract.

"You're good. You're here. I don't like freelancers with enemy connections running loose on my base," Black Echo shrugged. "You didn't really think I wouldn't claim a major contract when it came open?"

Jazz looked a bit queasy, and to Prowl he felt sick, but the minibot nodded. "As long as that's all I'm doing."

"That's the standing contract," Black Echo nodded and unsubspaced a datapad to hand to him. "Full details on pay, expectations and all that slag."

Jazz nodded and took the pad, not even glancing at it before subspacing it. "I'll get it back to you in an orn or three, after I've read it fully."

Black Echo nodded his acceptance of that.

Prowl maintained his contact with the minibot, sharing what comfort he could until they were back in relative private and he could pin down what had Jazz so upset.

"Other conditions?" He inquired politely, sure that couldn't be everything that they wanted from him, from them.

"I expect you to behave in a manner befitting an Autobot officer," Optimus Prime said seriously. "I expect you to use your knowledge of the Decepticons to assist us in ending their threat. I expect you to speak up if you disagree with me. Your past has only been wiped clean legally by my pardon. You still must earn the trust of the other officers and soldiers you are going to send into battle with me."

Prowl actually relaxed at that, terms and conditions that he could live with, that he wanted to live with. Prowl wanted to work, wanted to be doing something useful. "Yes sir."

"Good," Optimus relaxed as well. "It is my understanding that you began training in Metallikato under Korrës. I wish you to continue your training."

"The opportunity to do so would be appreciated sir. The training has proven very helpful." Prowl responded, sincere and pleased. Since Prime wished it as well it meant that he could justify the time spent doing so, as soon as he tracked the master down.

Or, as Prowl was sure was the more likely of the two scenarios, the Metallikato master tracked him down.

"I am sure it has," Optimus chuckled lightly. "Do you have any questions of us?"

"No sir." No promises that there would not be questions later after Prowl had time to analyze all of the sudden changes, to give them the consideration they deserved, but for now he had enough.

"Very well. Then return to your quarters, enjoy your mate and take a few orns to assess what we've said," Optimus' gaze softened at he looked at Jazz. "I believe he'll feel better after a couple overloads and being held."

Sure that the Prime was right, Prowl bowed quietly at the dismissal and finally reached out to touch Jazz, wanting to get the silver mech back to their quarters. He found no resistance in Jazz, who gratefully leaned against him, his engine purring despite the distress in his field.

"I'll be fine," Jazz promised as soon as the door closed on their quarters. "I'm not just keen on being bound by another primary contract, especially not to _him_."

Prowl moved them to the berth, settling down and drawing Jazz against him before answering, processor working on the problem. "You are not bound here as I am. You could refuse. Or try to negotiate."

"Refusing means leaving you," Jazz shook his head in full denial. "It might not be as bad as I think," he stretched up to wrap his arms around Prowl's neck and claim his mouth in a desperate, hungry kiss. "I'll read the contract. I'm _good_ with them. Right now ... I just want to feel you in me, in every way."

"Yours." Prowl agreed quietly, pushing the problem down until Jazz brought it up again, provided the mech wanted him involved with it. Right now if Jazz wanted to forget Prowl was willing.


	28. Smokescreen Again

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech, mech/femme  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Het, Sticky, Orgy  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 28: Smokescreen Again<p>**

* * *

><p>Prowl paused at the sound of Jazz's voice coming from inside a sparring room. He was on his way to meet Ironhide for evaluation, but what was Jazz doing down here?<p>

Curious, he turned aside. The door was open, practically an invitation around here, and he had the time to spare. Making it a point to be early everywhere you went gave a mech the luxury of being distracted on occasion.

The sight that met his optics was enough to stop him in his tracks and make his engine rev hard, and after a moment he settled in to observe what Jazz did for a living.

The orgy - and that was the only thing to call it - had Jazz at the center of all five Bladewarriors. He was tackling three of them - two in his valve and one in his mouth - while the other two, the twins, touched and kissed each other while they watched and waited their turn.

Jazz certainly didn't seem upset by the arrangement, and Prowl actually contemplated prodding him for details later. He had known the silver mech had attracted a lot of attention by accepting Black Echo's contract, but he hadn't seen him in action until today.

Prowl had to admit it was something to see, and _hear_. The warriors pounded into him, moaning their pleasure shamelessly as expected. But to watch _Jazz_ ... Prowl had no doubt the mech was in bliss. He knew him too well. This was Jazz's element and he relished showing off his skills.

A shiver at the sound of Jazz in pleasure, and a brief struggle before Prowl had himself under control again. He had spoken truth when he told Jazz that did not hold what he was against him, and seeing this just confirmed that his own words. That Jazz was enjoying himself pleased Prowl, and the small slivers of doubt troubling Prowl as he watched were his own.

The black Bladebrother roared as he overloaded into Jazz's valve, followed shortly by his red brother and Jazz's sharp keens as he joined them, the sound muted by the spike still in his mouth.

Prowl checked the time again, and after a moment's debate decided he still had some time to spare. Though after watching this he hoped he would be in decent condition to meet with Ironhide, and not running so hot that it showed.

::Join?:: Jazz commed him as the blue Bladebrother overloaded into his mouth. ::Let me have that spike and cool you a bit.::

::You tempt me, but I am not sure I would be welcome. They don't seem interested in sharing.:: Prowl purred softly, touched by the fact that Jazz had even noticed him amid all of that.

::These three are done,:: Jazz commented as he was let down, only to be pounced on by the silver and gold brothers. A deep moan echoed over the comm as Jazz found Sunstreaker in his valve and Sideswipe thrusting into his mouth, both bucking hard. ::I'll always have time for you.::

::If you still feel up to it when they are done, if there is time.:: Prowl answered, smothering a moan of his as he agreed to give in to temptation.

::Always, for you,:: Jazz's voice was rich with desire that had nothing to do with the pleasure coursing through his systems. ::You feel so good in a completely different way,:: Jazz moaned in anticipation, drawing moans of pleasure from the two mechs taking him.

Prowl stopped trying to hide his desire or his growing charge, optics locked on the minibot as he waited, admiring every inch of his lovers frame in action.

:: You make me so hot, Prowl,:: Jazz moaned over the private comm even as his body worked the twins into a frenzy of pleasure. ::You're like no one I've been with. Not the biggest or most skilled, but my valve aches for your spike.::

::I think that adds up to a compliment.:: Prowl teased back, entire frame beginning to quiver with anticipation at the idea that soon Jazz would be riding him like that, for everyone to see.

::It is,:: Jazz moaned. ::So very much a complement. I want you so bad. I _fantasize_ about you sometimes at work.::

Prowl whimpered softly, not sure what he had done to wanted that badly but not about to protest the fact either.

::Touch yourself?:: Jazz whimpered, his body taunt between the twins as they neared overload. ::Stroke your wings. I love your wings.::

::For you.:: Prowl agreed, sensor wings flaring wide in a motion meant to attract attention before settling into position where he could reach some of the most sensitive plating.

He didn't try to muffle the sounds of pleasure dragging his fingers over his own plating brought him, pleasure only intensified by the fact that he was doing it for Jazz and no one else.

::Prowl!:: Jazz keened sharply over the comm even as his muffled voice cried out Sunstreaker's designation as the golden warrior overloaded, quickly followed by his twin.

If a riled up and needy Praxian had been Jazz's goal he certainly accomplished it, with Prowl unable to take his optics off Jazz as a small keen of his own escaped him. He continued to stare, fixated, as Sunstreaker pulled out, followed by a gush of transfluid from Jazz's well-used valve. The Sideswipe withdrew, leaving Jazz panting on the floor.

Under the hungry gaze of all six mechs, Jazz rolled to his back, spread his legs and looked directly at Prowl. "Come take your share, lover."

"My share?" Prowl repeated as he approached, playful as he deliberately ignored the time constraints tugging at his processor. ::What if I think it's time for you to do a little work? You were the one who was teasing me.::

Still, he reached down and lifted the smaller from the floor, drawing him into a passionate and needy kiss that was returned in full. Jazz's hands reached for plating, one stroking Prowl's throat, the other going for a sensor wing.

::Whatever you desire, lover,:: Jazz moaned, absolutely willing and eager.

::What kind of a show shall we give them, keeping in mind that I have a evaluation in the very near future?:: Prowl asked, breaking off to tease at Jazz's helm instead, a slight revenge for what Jazz's words had been doing to him the entire time he had been watching.

Jazz gasped and shuddered, his processor going so many places before settling on something he knew would get to the cadre watching them. ::Take my valve, my spark, against the wall. Show them you're strong.::

Prowl moaned, doubting that Jazz would have suggested it if he wasn't sure but still wanting to check as he moved to pin the smaller mech to the wall. ::Spark in front of an audience?::

::You don't have to,:: Jazz hurriedly offered to retract the idea. ::I do regularly.::

Prowl freed his aching spike, pausing to meet Jazz gaze and make sure he had the minibot's attention. ::For you, anytime. Anywhere.::

With that he leaned in, catching Jazz's lips in a possessive kiss as his spike slid smoothly into the waiting valve. They both moaned into the kiss as Prowl took the last steps to pin Jazz against the wall. With only a few thrusts they were both all but oblivious to their audience as they sank fully into the pleasure.

"Yesss!" Jazz hissed, throwing his helm back in bliss, his body arched and valve rippling around the wave of pleasure that was Prowl's spike.

Prowl moaned, larger frame pinning Jazz effectively against the wall as he proceeded to take advantage of everything he knew drove Jazz wild.

"Yours." He managed again, chest plates loosening just enough to make the offer clear. Jazz's chest plates slid open quickly, the brilliant blue spark dancing with silver and purple lighting reached out as soon as its chamber began to spiral open.

Spark met spark eagerly as Prowl answered, touching and flaring as the physical took second place the pleasure shared between sparks, Prowl's only ever for two mechs, one absent and one in his arms right now.

It was Jazz's designation he keened as he pressed against the smaller mech, deepening the merge and sharing with his lover how much it meant to have Jazz. In return Jazz cried out Prowl's designation, something he did for most of his clients. Yet between them, where their sparks swirled and shared energy, the honesty of that cry came through clearly.

~Love you. Want you. Thank you. Adore you. My Prowl. My _lover_.~ Jazz's spark sang to him, reveling in the sensations that terrified Jazz's processor at times. Jazz was bound to Prowl and he knew it. Tied more firmly than any law or contract could manage. As frightening as it was to the mech who'd come on line effectively a slave, it was also relished as proof that Jazz had completely broken the pleasurebot coding that prevented him from living existence to it's fullest.

Joy and a peaceful contentment amid the storm of pleasure and emotion was Prowl's answer, a sure sense without words that Prowl loved him, wanted to please him, valued him, and shared in Jazz's happiness.

Spark deep love expressed outwardly in the way Prowl held him close, driving into him in a desire to bring them both the conclusion they sought. With both their bodies and sparks driving to release, it came fast and hard. Prowl's wings flared fully, separating into three long segments crackling with energy as they keened and stiffened.

He retained just enough thought to brace himself, to keep them both from crashing to the floor in the post overload bliss as he leaned in to kiss Jazz gently, field filled with love and adoration and praise as it washed over Jazz. Their chest plates closed automatically as they settled, systems content to be held close to the other.

"Impressive overload," a deep, rumbling voice rolled over them. "Now if you'll put your spike away, you better hope you have enough energy to fight."

Prowl nuzzled gently at Jazz as he pulled out and put himself back together. He set the minibot down and turned to face Ironhide, unfazed.

"I am ready when you are."

Ironhide huffed, glared at him, then turned to leave, expecting the Praxian to follow.

"Can I watch?" Jazz purred, looking at Prowl.

"If you want. I certainly don't mind." Prowl answered as he took his cue from the larger mech and followed Ironhides lead. In fact, Prowl welcomed the familiar company in a place where he still was not sure he was welcome so much as tolerated.

Jazz grinned and trotted to keep up with the larger mechs. Though he closed his interface panels, the scrapes of half a dozen colors and thick smears of lubricant and transfluid made him look very well used and in desperate need of a long stint in the washrack and detailing. Issues his lover might very well be willing to help him address after his appointment.

They only headed three rooms away, and the door closed behind Jazz as they took in the open training room.

"Start with the basics," Ironhide rumbled as he settled into a defensive stance. "Come at me."

With a shrug Prowl fell into a stance that for him was comfortable and familiar, taking the luxury of a moment to evaluate his competition, and struck.

The larger mech blocked him with a heavy downward blow that rattled his arm, a move that on the battlefield would have opened Prowl to a body slam that would have _hurt_. Instead Ironhide backed off again, clearly inviting another attempt.

Prowl stepped back as well, looking for another angle of attack after the obvious failure of his first strike. Initial analysis was informing him that he stood little chance against his much larger opponent without some sort of advantage, but Ironhide had not instructed him to stop either.

He moved again, though not in a way that left him open to the same counter. This time Ironhide let him strike, a test of the warrior's armor and Prowl's strength, before grabbing a sensor wing and squeezing hard enough to make a normal Praxian drop to his knees screaming.

All it him earned him with Prowl was another strike, this time a precision one to his wrist actuators to force Ironhide's hand open to free his wing.

The big mech grunted in surprise and began to circle his opponent. "Not many know that trick. Ratchet'll reformat you if you use it too much."

"I shall keep that in mind." Prowl promised. All of his encounters with the medic had only served to reinforce that Prowl did not want to be on his bad side for the simple reason that Ratchet was perfectly capable of making a mech's life miserable with ever laying a finger on his target.

He took advantage of the moment to test the wing that Ironhide had grabbed before drawing them tighter and therefore making them a less accessible target. His current environment did not call for him to employ the sensory data they offered, and extended they only offered his opponent a means of injury.

Suddenly things became much more serious as Ironhide powered up his cannons.

Prowl back up a pace, giving himself more room to maneuver as he evaluated the sudden change. There was no panic, but an immediate wariness concerning the large mech intentions.

"Let's see how well you dodge," Ironhide rumbled and fired.

Despite Prowl's dive to the side, his sensor wings soon informed him that the blast, while it would scorch, was at a low enough setting it wouldn't do much actual _damage_.

Relieved, Prowl still played by the rules, avoiding anything aimed at him with much better results than his attempts to attack the other mech. After six blasts, Ironhide grunted and lunged for the smaller, much lighter mech, taking it back to hand to hand but putting the Praxian on the defensive.

Prowl responded more often than not by simply not being there to be hit, sliding out of the way and one time even landing a sharp blow on Ironhide as he went by.

Ironhide began to growl, his strikes becoming more forceful, more frustrated, and much, _much_ faster.

The change prompted Prowl to begin looking for a way to end what was supposed to have been merely an evaluation of his hand to hand combat readiness when one strike came far to close for comfort. It only grazed a sensor wing, but the force behind it was a very strong indicator of just how determined to land a hit Ironhide was.

Prowl knew he had no chance of physically subduing the much larger mech, and the time to attempt to talk his way out of it was gone. He was only distantly aware of another strong presence stalking into the room and pausing, watching the sparing match.

"Hide!" a femme's voice roared. "Stand down, Pit have you!"

Prowl backed away, assuming a neutral posture as soon as it was evident that Ironhide was going to obey, the Praxians' attention instantly divided between the fuming bodyguard and the new arrival.

Unfamiliar or not, her influence over Ironhide was much appreciated, and Prowl intended to tell her so as soon as Ironhide appeared to be under control again.

"I'm doing an assessment here, femme!" Ironhide snapped at her, though he was looking at Prowl.

"No, you're fuming, which means he's a lot better than you want to admit," she smirked. "You need to let Sideswipe give him a try. Praxians are all speed and you know it."

Sensor panels twitched as Prowl's processor helpfully provided him with a replay of the last time he had encountered the silver twin. More than one mech had paid dearly that orn, some of which was still owed.

From another angle though, Prowl had certainly not intended to rile Ironhide up this much, and dealing with Sideswipe and the occasional lecture from Ratchet might prove more beneficial to Prowl's health in the long run.

"Fine, but not Sideswipe. Let's see what another Praxian does," Ironhide's grin was dangerous. "That new one knows how to fight."

Chromia rolled her optics and sat on a bench to watch. "He's on his way. Come here," her attention turned to Jazz, giving him just enough warning before he was scooped up and plopped on her lap.

More curious than alarmed, especially since there seemed to be a voice of reason and influence in the room now, Prowl settled for dividing his attention between the rooms three occupants as he waited for his new sparring partner to arrive.

Ironhide seemed to have fallen out of whatever fit of rage he had been in, and the newcomer femme with his lover was an interesting individual. Her ID ping came back as Chromia. His database supplied that she was a high-ranking warrior in her own right; the bodyguard to the Prime's bonded, Elita One.

Prowl was finally relaxed from his round with Ironhide when the door slid open and an entirely too familiar frame walked in.

"Well, well, I never expected to see _you_ again," Smokescreen grinned at him.

"Smokescreen." Prowl greeted him, neutral. Even though he had named him as a potential conversion he had not expected the other Praxian to actually make the switch.

The bright blue and red Praxian chuckled. "You'd be amazed at what Black Echo can do once a mech's broken." He glanced at Jazz, who looked away. "You _might_ be amazed at how good that little silver demon of yours is at breaking a mech."

Sensor panels flicked, dismissive. Smokescreen had not just hinted at anything that Prowl was unaware of, though he might see if his lover wanted to talk tonight. And since Prowl was rather familiar with some of Black Echo's methods of operation- "It is good to see you functioning, if nothing else." Prowl allowed politely.

"So, if what scuttlebutt says is true, let's find out how long it takes you to trounce me," Smokescreen said cheerfully as he stepped into the sparing grid.

Rumors already? Dismissing that for later as well Prowl mirrored the Praxian, falling into the processor state from which he reacted best and began circling with Smokescreen, each mech taking in the other's measure. Reflexive social protocols Prowl never thought about kicked in and flared Prowl's three-panel sensor wings, making a show of his greater apparent status to intimidate the two-panel mech across from him.

Smokescreen flared his wings in turn, separating each into the three long fingers to make them appear larger and more impressive.

"You still think Praxians don't have some Seeker in them?" Chromia chuckled as she leaned against Ironhide, enjoying the way he rubbed her side even as she enjoyed the slide of her spike into Jazz's slick valve and the way the minibot moaned and rocked against her,

"Maybe," Ironhide grumbled as he watched the pair spar. Feints and testing strikes this early on. "I didn't know they knew each other."

"Smokey groped and kissed Prowl as a distraction during an early combat lesson," Jazz moaned, pressing back against Chromia's chassis. "Didn't go over well."

A small part of Prowl's processor followed the conversation off to the side, the part that was constantly aware of his environment. That session had been his first and his last with Smokescreen, the other Praxian possibly not realizing just how close he had come to serious injury that day, and not from Prowl.

Seeing an opening Prowl struck, the move intended to connect but not injure. He felt sensor wing under his fingers before reflex snapped the spread fingers apart and jerked the sensitive appendage back. If Prowl had been out to hurt him, that wing could have been _gone_, or worse.

It got the point across to Smokescreen very clearly, given the brightness of his now blue optics. It also made Smokescreen focus. His sensor wings folded back and tight against his chassis as he watched Prowl swing away.

With a single hard movement Smokescreen followed his retreating opponent only to find that Prowl was not where he had expected him to be, the mech already on the watch for a return strike and reacting to it before consciously processing what he was doing.

Prowl allowed Smokescreen's momentum to the set the mech up for another warning blow, this time to the massive number of critical lines in his neck. Though he didn't quite intend it, it did briefly drop Smokescreen to his knees.

"Definitely good enough to be on the front lines if needed," Chromia commented between low rumbles of pleasure and Jazz's moans.

"Not until I _trust_ him," Ironhide growled. "He's good," he granted at his mate's glare. "He's also a defector who spent a _lot_ of time close to Soundwave."

The mech under discussion backed away from his downed opponent, calmly waiting for Smokescreen to regain his feet and his equilibrium. For the briefest moment Prowl considered offering to end the match, then decided against it.

Just because he had no intention of hurting Smokescreen did not mean he had anything against shaking the other mech up a little, and if rumors were already spreading the suggestion that he could hold his own in a fight might prevent problems later on.

Or it might simply invite trouble, but on a personal level Prowl was enjoying having the upper hand for a moment. It happened rarely enough it he felt like relishing the moment.

"You've definitely gotten better," Smokescreen admitted as he bounced on his pedes a bit. "Anything you want to show off for him?"

"Not that he hasn't already seen." Prowl answered, optics still trained on Smokescreen and entire frame balanced to react at the first sign of need. "Sounds as though he is enjoying himself anyway."

"He always gets off on watching," Smokescreen shrugged as he circled around. "Did you really train with Korrës?"

"Yes." Prowl mirrored the move, observing and searching again. He answer was stated as simple fact and nothing more.

Smokescreen flicked his wings, impressed and willing to show it. He was setting himself up for an attack when a rather unique sound, a snarling keen of frustrated outrage, echoed through the room from Jazz.

"Black Echo summoned me," Jazz told Chromia, his voice low.

She nodded and shifted her attention from enjoying his valve to actually overloading.

Prowl spared the attention to actually look at his lover, leaving the rest of his sensors to keep a watch on Smokescreen. When Jazz used that tone it never boded well. The subject of his words sent a cold chill down his neural relays. Summoned by Black Echo. When would he see Jazz again? What shape would Jazz be in when he did, since Prowl refused to even contemplate the idea that silver mech would not come back.

"I guess that's enough you two," Ironhide rumbled to the Praxians, his hands knuckle-deep in Chromia's armor gaps as she revved up close to overload.

Smokescreen relaxed in obvious relief.

Prowl's tension only grew as he turned the rest of his attention from the other Praxian and waited for them to finish, wanting a moment with Jazz before he left. There was no arousal on his part this time, no pleasure as he watched Chromia overload.

As soon as she finished, before she'd even recovered, Jazz had lifted himself from her spike and hopped to the ground as he closed his panels. A desperate look, a pleading for understanding, was sent Prowl's way before Jazz walked towards the door.

"Jazz." Prowl called and waited just long enough to make sure he had the mechs attention before sending a quick comm. ::Just come back, love.::

Simple words that summed up all the mattered most to Prowl.

::As soon as I can,:: Jazz promised, a wealth of longing and dread in his voice. ::As soon as I possibly can.::


	29. Breaking Down

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 29: Breaking Down<p>**

* * *

><p>Sixteen brutally long joors after Jazz had left to answer Black Echo's summons Prowl was still in his workroom <em>trying<em> to get something done with limited success. It was an actual relief when he heard the outer door slid open. No matter who it was, it was a distraction he desperately needed.

Rising to see who it was he paused just long enough to give his sensor panels a shake, the tension in his entire frame carrying even that far. With a final check to make sure what little had accomplished was saved for him to return to later Prowl made his way into the main room.

Jazz was there, physically intact with only a few scrapes here and there, but the minibot all but radiated misery and desperate need. The instant he saw Prowl he darted forward to bury his face against Prowl's midsection and shook. His field roiled outward, desperate for the comforting connection and full of desperate grief.

Prowl pushed him away, but just enough so that he could actually lift the smaller mech up, arms and field wrapping around Jazz as he held him close. Silent comfort as he carried Jazz to the berthroom, love and Prowl's own sense of calm offered freely as he settled them both and waited for Jazz to speak, if he wanted.

"I _hate_ breaking mechs," Jazz trembled, more than willing to be anywhere Prowl took him. As long as the larger mech was close, Jazz didn't care where he was. "Hate it like nothing else. It's everything a pleasurebot _isn't_."

"And he has asked you to do it again?" Prowl clarified quietly, holding Jazz close with one arm as he freed a hand to run soothing over the silver armor.

Jazz only nodded against his armor and trembled harder. "It's a perversion of what I was sparked to be, what I _am_," he keened in tormented grief. "If I wasn't so good, he wouldn't order it, but I am." He shook harder, his field drenched in self-hatred.

Prowl wanted to find a way out of this, wanted to save his lover from the clear distress he was in. Wanted find Black Echo and hurt the mech for what he was doing to Jazz. Instead he sent love to try and counter the self-hatred, contenting himself with listening for now.

With a ragged intake Jazz managed to weave 'thanks' into his field.

"Do you know what breaking a mech is like?" Jazz whispered.

Acknowledgment of the thanks, but with a pushing of Prowl's field deeper into the mech in his arms, full of concern that completely centered on Jazz at the moment.

"Not in detail." Prowl admitted. "Not much."

Jazz nodded against his chest and pressed closer. "It means getting into a mech's processor, understanding them, finding out what makes them tick ... and using that to shatter their ability to comprehend reality or make judgments. I have to drive them completely, delusionally insane."

He didn't want to know, but he had to ask, to try and make sense of what Jazz was telling him. "What does that gain then, if they are insane after the work is done?"

"A mech that doesn't have a grip on reality is much easier to wipe and reprogram," Jazz murmured, shuddering. "They don't know what's going on, so they don't resist. There's half a dozen I've helped turn to the Autobots that way."

A hiss of anger from Prowl as _understanding_ set in, and an entirely new level of anger/rage/disgust that he was quick to partition off from Jazz. His lover clearly hated doing this, and there was not a chance Prowl was going to blame him for it.

A moment of selfishness in the midst of all that. "Tell me this wasn't part of the contract you accepted so you could stay."

Jazz shook his head fervently. "No, just like what Black Echo asks for in the berth isn't. It's separate, negotiated with each job. But ... saying _no_ to Black Echo? Not really an option. All I can do is demand a fortune for my services and pray it'll eventually be too much."

Prowl knew in his spark that the chance of that was small. Black Echo was the type of mech who got what he wanted, one way or another. Prowl hated to remember how close he had been to breaking before the Prime had intervened, leaving the Praxian with his most important secrets still intact.

"Black Echo relented, allowed me to come here tonight," Jazz murmured, pressing close. "But once I go back I won't leave that cell until the job is done," he sounded, felt, sick. "When I'm done, Black Echo will probably take me to his berth while the mech is reprogrammed. I'll be turned over to Ratchet when Black Echo goes back to work to finish indoctrinating the new Autobot. Ratchet'll probably call you when I'm repaired enough to come home."

Prowl hummed softly, looking for a way to protect Jazz and burying his own grief that he could not far away from the already suffering mech. "I will come get you." He promised quietly. "As soon as Ratchet allows."

Jazz trilled shakily in thanks, his trembling slowly subsiding as he soaked in Prowl's steady assurance and calmness.

"Knowing I have you to come to when it's over makes it ... easier to get through," Jazz eventually murmured. "Knowing this one wasn't a Con by choice does too, a little bit. But to do this to a mechling," he shuddered. "I'm going to be a mess for a while."

"This is one of the things I had hoped I'd left behind." Prowl murmured, confession that he knew the Decepticons had been doing the same thing, even if he had been more removed from it then. It had bothered him then, and it almost bothered him more now.

He nuzzled at Jazz's helm, affection and comfort the intention. Jazz kept saying tonight, but..."How long can you stay?"

"Another joor and a breem," Jazz answered. "Bumblebee's getting a little recharge. I'm supposed to be."

Prowl held him even closer, determined to do what he could here and now. "Then rest love. I will be here."


	30. Tactical Moves

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 30: Tactical Moves<p>**

* * *

><p>The Praxian made his way through the halls of the base, familiar enough with them now and most of those in the base familiar enough with him that he could devote most of his processor to other tasks as he moved.<p>

Korrës had finally tracked him down again, allowing Prowl to resume his training. It was a relief to the Praxian, something familiar in the midst of the still new, even if he was never quite sure what the master had planned for each session.

Today had been the start of a new branch of his training, with the introduction of swords to his combat repertoire. This new method, once Prowl had reached competency, would give him an advantage in combat against heavier and better-armored foes, an advantage Prowl was looking forward to.

The small part of his processor devoted to his actual location alerted him to the fact that he had reached his destination - the tactical planning room. Prowl took a moment, pulling himself to the present and the meeting he was getting ready to walk into, and opened the door.

"Hey there," Smokescreen, as usual, greeted him cheerily and first.

"Prowl," the unit commander, Farsight, greeted him more sedately with a nod.

"Sir." Prowl nodded to Farsight first, following the order of seniority. "Smokescreen." He acknowledged, meeting the Praxians optics before looking around to note the rest of those present.

A large, dark mech who had been pointed out to him as a Trailbreaker, and labeled a mech far more intelligent than he first appeared as well as an easy going individual.

The lithe pale blue and storm gray femme by the designation of Quickwit was in the room, but her back was turned and her focus on her workstation. A larger minibot, deep blue and ruby red, was standing at her shoulder, leaning forward and conversing with her quietly. Belatedly Prowl identified him as Boomerang.

At Farsight's motion, Prowl joined him and the two diversionary tacticians around the large central holotable.

The current map of Iacon, damage shown clearly, made Prowl's spark twist, his processor supplying images of having been there first hand. He could look at the map, seeing elements of the initial plan that he had submitted, could tell with a glance where certain individuals had been from the damage that had been done.

Silently he took a seat, waiting to be brought up to date on the current group workings and role expected of him.

"We're all intimately familiar with what happened," Farsight began. "Prowl, do you wish to add anything to what we know?"

For a long moment Prowl studied the board, murmuring very quietly and more to himself than anyone else. "This never should have happened."

He felt all the optics focus on him, and vented softly as he continued to speak. "There was no ready plan for Iacon. A preliminary one, literally the first rough draft. It was never meant to be used as it was ... Megatron is impatient, and insane."

"That's not news, but you're saying the original assault _wasn't_ a ready plan?" Farsight locked on him, a decidedly uncomfortably, almost predatory look on the mech's features.

"No. It was a potential, one that was never confirmed, but that was being prepared in case. And only parts of it were used at all. It was a precision plan, specific inroads, pin-point targets. Civilian casualties are unavoidable, but they should have been minimal."

"And Megatron turned it into a full assault to raze the city," Smokescreen murmured, shaking his head. "Psycho bastard."

The holotable reset to Iacon before the assault.

"Show the plan you made, such as you handed it to Megatron," Farsight ordered, keenly interested.

Startled, Prowl stared at him for a moment, then focused his attention on the table, working smoothing as he accessed all of the plan from memory.

"Here and here- these were to be the two main routes into the city. The Senate and the Palace were the main targets from the beginning- orders to detain and capture on all VIP targets in those areas. All VIP's were clearly defined and rated for capture significance."

Selecting different points Prowl continued. "These defense points were to be taken out by Seekers- they _do_ have the capability to be that precise when Starscream makes them- to clear entry and exit routes and to help keep the city under control."

"Iacon itself was earmarked as a potential long term holding position, for political reasons mostly. But that was subject to change based on the course of the war long from now. The plan was vorns from complete, and supposed to be even farther implementation." He finally concluded, sitting back in his seat to allow the others a clean view of his work.

He saw amazement and open respect from Smokescreen. Calculating respect from Farsight mingled with shock.

"Wow," Smokescreen eventually murmured. "_Vorns_ away from ready?"

"Yes." Prowl touched the table again. "The strength of the defenses expected in these areas needed to be assessed. There were no secondary routes established. And there was supposed to be extensive reconnaissance performed before the assault was put into action."

The white, black and red Praxian sighed softly. "The retreat plan was more complete, but even that was still in the initial stages."

"It is a good thing Megatron didn't take you very seriously," Farsight murmured, taking the plan in as well as the stated faults. "Keep up this quality and you'll have far fewer issues with Prime."

Prowl shrugged his wings, accepting the statements as they were. "I will be content with not being beaten within an inch of my functioning for failure."

"That doesn't happen here," Smokescreen told him, sliding a bit closer to the other Praxian but keeping a polite distance. "Not even with old Hide."

"All right, now to the point of today," Farsight smiled dangerously as the holoboard changed again, this time to a simple outpost. Its details, including the intel on several mechs inside, were on display. "Prowl," he pointed to a location out of most weapon range where a camp of twenty mechs, including three Seekers, was gathered. "This is your unit. What is displayed is your intel. Your mission is to take the outpost. Your opponents are a combination of AI and real mechs under the command of Smokescreen and Trailbreaker. Their backup will arrive in ten joors. If you have not taken the outpost then your forces will be overwhelmed. We will run in double real time."

"Sir." Prowl responded, resetting this processor easily and already running scenarios. His entire posture changed with something in the here and now, even if it was just a theoretical training exercise, to focus on.

At the end of the orn, Prowl felt deeply satisfied. His three opponents had given him a real challenge, though Farsight had only played a minor roll of adding random variables in the form of non-AI mechs on both sides. Prowl doubted it would have gone nearly as well if the unit leader had been an active tactician in the exercise.

"Prowl, will you join us for energon?" Farsight asked as the shift came to an end.

"If I am welcome, it would be nice to refuel with company." And Prowl was telling the truth. With Jazz gone it had been lonely, and the Praxian was starting to realize how much he had come to appreciate friendly company.

"You are welcome," Farsight said firmly, motioning his entire unit to come along. "You are one of us now. Socializing is important, especially with this clade of poor socializes."

"Except that one," Boomerang pointed at Smokescreen. "He's more con artist than tactician."

"Pulling off a successful con sting is a form of tactical planning." Prowl pointed out, reviewing the exercise they had just completed and Smokescreens role.

His fellow Praxian had performed competently, one his moves actually catching Prowl's attention enough that had noted it in case he had the opportunity to question Smokescreen about it later.

"It also requires reading the situation and reading the mechs," Smokescreen grinned teasingly at Boomerang. "I never quite figured out why mechs who have to see so much don't like mechs more."

"Because then we have that many more variables to deal with, and we have to deal with the mechs that make up the data." The minibot shot back, his argument lacking any sort of real force behind it.

"Control," Quickwit shrugged. "In tactical, we don't face imminent frame damage for a mistake."

"You aren't required on the front lines?" Prowl asked, honestly curious about something that had not been discussed extensively with him yet.

"No way," Boomerang shook his head. "We're far too valuable to risk to stray blaster shots. We can't do anything there that we can't do in a good control room."

That was certainly a new concept for Prowl, growing quiet as he considered the difference from his past position as the others continued to talk around him. Their banter was easy, relatively friendly. By the time they reached the rec room Prowl's battle computer had supplied another fact to mull over; at least three of the six mechs in tactical were former Decepticons. Boomerang had once been the frontliner Dropkick.

Farsight quietly herded them to a larger table while Smokescreen and Trailbreaker went to get energon for everyone.

He settled into the first seat he found that would accommodate his frame, folding his wings to fit around the chair meant for the most common of frame types as the others settled around the table.

They were certainly a diverse mix, not a bad thing when the entire idea was to incorporate as many factors and views as possible into a plan to raise the chance of success. He could easily see the rough camaraderie falling into tense debate as well.

A dark blue hand attached to a black forearm reached into view as a cube of energon was placed in front of him. Along with it came the polite, though forward, brush of Smokescreen's EM field as wing brushed against wing. Flirting. Very forward flirting, but to Prowl's knowledge and the polite interest it got from others, not yet crossing the line to inappropriate.

Prowl took the energon, his response rather neutral on the surface, EM field unwavering as Prowl politely moved his wing out of the way to make room for Smokescreen.

"Thank you." He nodded before turning his attention to listening to a comment Trailbreaker was making. Even though most of the tactical unit was not called upon to serve in the field the larger mech's unique force field had him working with the scouts on occasion.

"Anytime," Smokescreen accepted the polite rebuffing. ::Are you still upset about our first sparing match?::

::No.:: Prowl answered honestly, changing over to the comm conversation without diverting too much of his attention from Trailbreaker. ::I was more startled at the time.::

::Good,:: Smokescreen's field brushed against his, trying to be friendly. ::I'm still interested.::

::And I am happy in the relationship I am in now.:: Prowl explained, finally focusing on Smokescreen as the conversation turned to other things than uses for Trailbreaker's force fields.

::He's a pleasurebot,:: Smokescreen glanced at Prowl. ::He'll never settle down.::

::I know. I don't intend to ask him to stop being what he is.:: Prowl answered as he started on the energon, noting the difference of even that here. As a Decepticon the energon had been acceptable. This, considering the fact that there were in the middle of a rebellion, was good.

::Then why limit yourself?:: Smokescreen asked, curious. ::Surely _he's_ not demanding it.::

::He has not stated any sort of desire. The choice is mine.:: Prowl's wings shrugged slightly. ::I am content with Jazz.::

Smokescreen stared at him, his expression mostly bewildered.

"He tell you off again, Smokey?" Boomerang snickered.

"Stuff it, target," Smokescreen growled, though his frame language didn't back up the demand.

Prowl simply took another sip of energon, not quite understanding why his decision was that confusing or Smokescreen's continued fixation on him. Surely as an Autobot Smokescreen had plenty of Praxian partners to choose from. He was an attractive mech and there were over three thousand Praxians listed in Iacon.

The conversation descended into a friendly trading of insults as Prowl listened.

"He's been talking about you since he defected," Farsight supplied. "Mech's had a crush on you for a long time."

"Ah." Prowl set down the energon, tilting his head to study Smokescreen for a moment before turning back to Farsight. "I knew that he was attracted to me, but so apparently are many others. I try to deflect the attention whenever I can."

"There is plenty to be attracted to, Prowl," Farsight said gently. "Between your frametype, looks and intelligence, I'm not surprised you deal with a fair amount of unwanted attention. It's likely to continue. Praxians may not be as rare here as in Decepticon ranks, but they're still exotic in Iacon."

"Thank you for the warning." Prowl sighed, resigning himself to the fact that some things were apparently not going to change. And here there was not even the fear of Soundwave to keep some of the admirers at bay. Though if Smokescreen's change in manner was an indication, there was some hope that the aggressive ones would be fewer and milder.

"I do take care of my mechs," Farsight said simply. "You're part of my division now."

"A still new idea for me." Prowl commented, allowing his attention to wander over the assembled team, taking in the teasing and easy manner in which they all interacted. It was much more like being in Soundwave's room when all the symbiots were around than the rec room he was used to. There was roughness to some of it, but the group generally got along.

He kept his attention on the chatter, but allowed his processors drift to Jazz. He had no doubt his lover was miserable right now, and wondered how long it would be before he would be home again.

Jazz's distress had been so clear, and it still tore at Prowl that he had not been able to spare his lover that which caused him to much pain. For Jazz to suffer as he did, and then suffer the abuse- and even if Jazz agreed to what was done to him that fact that he did not feel as though he could refuse still made it abuse in Prowl's opinion- at Black Echo's hand afterward tore at him even more.

With all of his spark Prowl wished he could end the war, end it now, and bring both of his lovers and his family back to him, safe. Not even sound, for there were wounds that were beyond even Ratchet's skill to repair that had been inflicted by this war, but together they could at least begin to heal.

"Prowl, what do you like to do for fun?" Quickwit asked, focusing the table on him once more.

"Fun?" Prowl repeated, considering. "I enjoy reading when I do not have other tasks to perform."

"What kind of bookfiles?" she asked, ignoring the low mutters of the mech next to her.

"Histories, biographies, the occasional fiction file." Prowl actually smiled just a little bit. "Subjects that most mechs seem to find boring in the extreme."

"Just means you're a primary tactician," Quickwit chuckled, her tone and smile warm. "Unlike those two," she motioned to Boomerang and Smokescreen, "who took on tactics as a secondary function."

"It was not my intended original function." Prowl admitted. "My primary functioning just merged very well with the tactical and battle computers when they were installed."

"Are you planning to go back to what you did before?" Farsight asked, only open curiosity in his manner.

"I do not know. I would go if there was a place for me." Prowl admitted. It was truth. He had never had the ambition to be more than his functioning intended.

"What _were_ you?" Boomerang suddenly asked.

"City planner and traffic flow coordinator." Prowl summed up, encompassing all of the planning and engineering that was part of the position. "And you?"

"Comedian," Quickwit chuckled. "Seems my ability to thick outside the box and understand mechs transitioned well to general tactician."

"I was commissioned as a tactician," Farsight added.

As admissions of past functions continued around the table, Smokescreen hunched his shoulders in an easy shrug. "I was kindled, found I liked being able to play tricks on mechs and turned it into a profession."

"Exploration team scout." Trailbreaker answered with pride when it was his turn. "And I would go back to doing that again. It was fun, being the first one to see something new and bring back a report."

"Senate Guard," Boomerang said. "I got pulled into this gig with the first major riot. I like it here, I liked it there," he shrugged. "I wouldn't mind seeing the front lines before all this is over."

It was certainly interesting insight to what made many of the mechs, and the one femme, he worked with tick. Insight Prowl doubted he ever would have gotten among the Decepticons. If anyone had even thought about putting together a tactical _unit_, no Decepticon was this free with their history and for good reason. Knowledge was power there even more than in a tactical situation. Anything you knew about your fellows was potential for blackmail to someone.

"So you're really serious about the pleasurebot?" Boomerang asked, his tone fascinated.

Prowl tilted his head to look at the smaller mech. "What do you mean?"

"Serious," the mech cycled his optics in exasperation. "You like him enough to be exclusive when he's not."

"My choice." Prowl replied. "Not anything that he has asked of me."

"Because your last lover hurt you so bad?" Boomerang asked. "We all know you were with Soundwave for quite a while, and he's why you finally defected."

Prowl shrugged, a non-committal move he hoped would allow them to make their own conclusions, right or wrong. It was a dangerous move, in a group of tacticians, but so was possibly saying the wrong thing. "I am content for now with the relationship I have with Jazz."

"Do you pay him for his time?" Smokescreen asked, somehow managing _not_ to make it offensive.

"No. The time he spends with me is his choice."

"That doesn't happen often," Boomerang hummed thoughtfully.

"HU ... Farsight's bonded and stogy. Trailbreaker's looking, sorta," Quickwit chuckled, giving the large black mech a grin. "Boomerang and I are casual."

"And I'm perpetually looking," Smokescreen spoke up before she could describe him.

"That's one way of putting it," Boomerang snorted.

"Noted." Prowl responded, relaxing a little more in this company than he had with anyone else.

"So have you received the Surviving Autobot Iacon briefing?" Farsight asked with an amused smile.

"The what?" Prowl asked, since that sounded it might actually be somewhat important, even if everyone else was now smiling in obvious amusement.

"The survival briefing." Boomerang repeated. "Everything you need to know about surviving in Iacon that isn't in the official welcome-to-the-base briefing, and then some."

"No," Prowl said, wary but unwilling to pass up information, even if it was hearsay and scuttlebutt.

"The big one - stay as far from Wheeljack's lab as you can if you value your limbs," Quickwit said with a chuckle but very serious expression. "That mech spends as much time being repaired from his own experiments than he does _doing_ the experiments."

"But you can't argue with what he produces when they _do_ work," Smokescreen piped up. "Mech's an accident prone genius. Friendly mech too."

"So if I want to talk to him make sure it is in a social area." Prowl summed up.

"With nothing blinking, glowing, or flashing around him." Boomerang added. "Where are you staying?"

Prowl hesitated for just an instant. "Officers quarters."

"Lucky." Smokescreen grumbled, then quickly explained. "Should save you from some of the pranking that tends to go on around here."

"Sideswipe's one of the major ones, though he's chilled out a _lot_ since Jazz came back to stay," Quickwit commented. "I guess even he mellows when he overloads enough."

"Watch out for a couple of the Aerialbots as well. Their gestalt leader tries to keep them in line, but sometimes they like to play pranks on grounders, just because they can." Trailbreaker thought to add, having been the victim of one of their recent pranks. "They're just young."

"The real pros in pranking ... you probably won't be targeted by us, but the Ops crew ... you just have to grumble, clean up and move on," Smokescreen added. "Same with Sides, really. Everyone _knows_ what pranks are his, but no one can _prove_ it, and Prime won't let Black Echo or his cronies investigate."

Prowl vented softly at that, sure it was going to cause him some processor ache before it was all over, just for the level of chaos it was going to create around him. "Thank you for the warning."

"Of course," Farsight smiled faintly as he finished his cube. "We take care of our own. And despite his well-deserved reputation, Black Echo's got your back Prowl. He vouched you could be trusted in this division despite your recent history. If you can't come to me with a problem, he'll look out for you if you go to him."

Prowl nodded in understanding, his knowledge of Black Echo making that fact not exactly comforting. Slowly he stretched his sensor wings and checked the time, glancing around. "I understand. Thank you for the information. If you'll excuse me, I have a project I'm working on..."

"Of course, Prowl," Farsight nodded. "We will see you for shift in the morning."


	31. Reclaiming Mates

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Prowl/Jazz  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 31: Reclaiming Mates<p>**

* * *

><p>Prowl studied the holotable again, a little of his processor following the working of his teammates around him, but most of his attention on the problem at hand. It was nice, having others around as he worked, others with interests and abilities similar to his own, others that actually cared about him as an individual and wanted him to succeed.<p>

With a frown he reached out to move a unit on the table, trying for another angle, when an incoming comm froze him in place.

::Ratchet to Prowl,:: the CMO's rough voice came over the line as soon as he opened it. ::Your mech is repaired and about to come out of stasis.::

"What is it, Prowl?" Farsight asked, noting his abrupt lack of movement.

Prowl twitched. Stasis...

::Understood. One moment, please?:: Prowl responded, answering Ratchet first before addressing Farsight. "Comm from med bay. Ratchet called to tell me Jazz is coming around."

"Ah," he nodded with a knowing look. "You are excused for half a shift. Comm me if he needs more."

"Thank you." Prowl murmured, rising quickly and ignoring the looks from those around him as he left the tactical room and made his way to the medbay. He had no doubt the information would get out within a klik.

The med-tech in front of the medbay complex - and it was a true _hospital_, not the engineering workshop turned surgery that Hook presided over - nodded at him with a warm smile and motioned him to follow.

Without a word Prowl followed the soft blue, white and red Iaconian femme. Her easy sway was a built-in design to make her attractive and her movements smooth and flowing. It was similar to the way Jazz moved, but less overtly enticing. Her sway was more soothing; intended to keep attention on her and off whatever brought a mech to this place.

"Have you ever been around Jazz right after he's been repaired?" she asked as they walked down a hallway.

"No." Prowl admitted quietly. "He seemed very distressed when he left though."

"I have little doubt. You'll be fine until you get him to your quarters, which I recommend doing as quickly as you can manage," she said. "When he feels safe he'll curl up and try to processes what happened. It won't be easy. Just hold him, let him be, try to make him feel safe. It's been a long time since he's had anyone to really help him through the processing stage of what his coding does. We do our best, but he doesn't really _trust_ any of us."

"I understand." Prowl nodded. "From what I have seen he does not trust many."

"No, his coding makes it very hard for him," she nodded, pausing outside a door. "Telling the difference between real trust and function-produced trust is difficult at best. He settled the way most of his caste does, by not truly trusting anyone, not even himself."

New insight for Prowl to consider. "I'll do my best to make it easier for him, if he will allow."

She nodded and opened the door. Ratchet was there, as well as Jazz, still in medical stasis. They were all were silent as Prowl entered and the med-tech closed the door.

"I don't know _why_ he trusts you, but if you break that trust, I _will_ break you," Ratchet growled in warning. "You're repairing parts of him that were broken before I ever saw him."

"I have no intention of breaking the trust that Jazz has given me." Prowl sighed, sparing a glance for the medic before his optics locked on Jazz, taking in the repairs. "How bad was he?"

"Good," Ratchet reached to disengage the medical stasis. "He got off relatively light this time, at least for who he was with. The real damage is from using his talents to shatter a mechling's grasp on reality. That's damage that I can't repair."

Prowl nodded, attention still on Jazz as he watched the silver mech's frame come slowly to life, wishing with all of his spark that it was under different circumstances that he was being reunited with his lover.

There was a rush of tension across Jazz's frame, then it suddenly loosened as the visor lit.

"Hey babe," Jazz smiled warmly at Prowl. "Hi doc," he greeted Ratchet, who just grunted.

"Jazz." Prowl sighed softly in return, moving close enough that the edge of his field, full of love and welcome, could brush against the smaller mech and held out a hand, waiting for Jazz to come to him if he wished. He was well aware of the way Ratchet watched them, but didn't care. He had nothing to hide from the medic, and on a level it was nice to know there were others that were at least protective of Jazz, even if they as helpless to stop what was going on as Prowl.

Jazz's hand was in his almost immediately as the minibot sat up.

"So does this mean I'm out of here?" Jazz looked at Ratchet.

"Yes, get going, just _try_ not to strain those repairs for a few joor," Ratchet huffed.

"Sure thing, doc-bot," Jazz grinned and hopped down to lean against Prowl. "What say we get back to _our_ berth?"

"I think that sounds like a very good idea." Prowl nuzzled at the top of Jazz's helm gently before looking over the minibot at Ratchet, making sure that he was really releasing the smaller mech.

"Go already," Ratchet shooed them off. "I have work to do."

Free of the medical wing Prowl led the way back to their quarters, quiet but with all of his attention really focused on Jazz, allowing the first hints of how happy he was that Jazz was back with him to begin to bleed into his field. He felt the giddy relief Jazz felt flow back, along with the oily, foul darkness that had crept into him from the last decaorn's work.

Prowl studied the darkness, calm and accepting as he guided Jazz in the door and locked it behind them, finally turning to face the minibot again. "Well?"

He'd barely gotten the word out and Jazz was welded against him, shaking, all pretense of being okay gone. He was grateful for Prowl's presence, but the rest was a horrid, sticky infection that had festered for vorns and was only now beginning to heal by being exposed and expunged.

"J-just hold me, 'k?"

"Here, I'm here." Prowl murmured softly, holding Jazz against his as though the minibot wasn't already practically a second layer of armor.

A few kliks of peace, quiet as he allowed things to settle just a bit before Prowl shifted them both, moving in the direction of the berth and rest. Jazz made no resistance to the shift, moving where he was guided. He allowed Prowl a moment to settle before curling up in a protective ball that Prowl instinctively curled around just as he would a sparkling in danger, shielding him with his own heavier armor and greater mass.

"How could Soundwave _do_ that to a youngling?" Jazz eventually sobbed. "That mech was racking up kills before he was old enough to interface!"

The Praxian holding him managed not to flinch, but it was a close thing. Prowl knew how it tore at Soundwave to reprogram a mech. He'd been close enough after those shifts, recharge cycles where the host would simply latch on to Prowl and hold on to him like he would never let go, and how the symbiots would be close, silent support against the distress.

A youngling though...it was enough to break Prowl's own spark, and he had never even seen the one being discussed. Not having an answer to give Prowl settled for holding him tighter.

"Only reason I can even manage is knowing they'll get the help they need here," Jazz rambled. "I wish there was a better way. A way to give them a chance at a real existence that didn't involve me doing _that_ to them. A mech ... when they finally break, it's a _snap_, not a gradual thing," he quivered as memories from various times began to mingle. "They're sorta coherent one moment, the next it's like a _really_ bad viral trip."

"With you in the middle of it." Prowl commented softly as he let love and what peace he could find wind around Jazz, wrapping him a blanket of acceptance and encouragement. Wanting him to talk, and to know that Prowl would listen to whatever he wanted or needed to say.

"Yeah," Jazz shuddered. Something deep inside him snapped loose. A tension that had been around so long Jazz didn't remember existing without it melting away in a flow of smelter-hot pain that cleansed what it left intact. "Those mechs have a _life_ now, because of what I go through, what I do. Even Ratchet admits it's the best option we have."

Pride, agreement, relief from Prowl as he felt the disappearance of the tension he hadn't quite known existed. "And I have the feeling that Ratchet does not soften his opinions to make them easier to hear."

Jazz chuckled. "No. He doesn't keep them to himself either." He snuggled in and let out a low, soft vent. "Probably the worst part? What Black Echo does when it's over ... he gets off on it, a _lot_, but it really does help bring me back to reality. The contract, the familiar sub-profile ... and it's an excuse to send me to Ratchet to make sure I come out with my processor intact."

The mere idea that Jazz might not come back from what breaking did to him was enough to send a shiver of fear through Prowl. He held his thoughts on the SIC, choosing instead to focus on something else. "We are very lucky to have someone as skilled as Ratchet."

"Yeah, we are," Jazz murmured. "I'm luckier to have you. Something worth fighting for, worth coming back to."

"Yours." Prowl answered, letting the feelings that Jazz had first convinced him were all right to feel spread over Jazz. Thankfulness that for Jazz and for the fact that Jazz would allow him to be that, a blending of everything that Jazz did for him. How much he loved Jazz, no matter how much the mech hated himself sometimes.

"Sometimes," Jazz whispered, barely daring to _say_ it. "Sometimes I wish I could have a little piece of that with me, always."

A shiver went through the Praxian, the implications far deeper than the words as he held Jazz against him, the hint of desire of his own not entirely contained as Jazz pressed against him.

Relief at not being immediately or completely rejected rippled through Jazz as he let Prowl have time to really process what he'd said, what it implied.

It was quiet as Prowl nuzzled gently, affectionately at Jazz, struggling with his own inner demons, his fears and his hesitations, his love for Jazz, and the love that still existed for the ones he had been forced to leave behind.

Finally with a soft vent Prowl pulled the smaller mech against him, taking a moment to make sure there would be no confusion on Jazz's end as to how Prowl felt about him as he flooded mixed EM with love and joy and _his_ personal regret.

"Love you Jazz. So very much. But now...with everything, I can't." A great deal of it was selfishness, and Prowl knew this. But he didn't want to do anything that would cause a rift between him and the smaller mech.

Jazz replied with warmth, love, affection, desire ... and gratitude. He shifted, uncurling enough to kiss his lover. "That's more than I hoped for," he admitted softly. "Much more."

Prowl nudged at him, stealing another kiss. "Forgive me?"

"Always," Jazz deepened their kiss and relaxed into the easy arousal of being close to his lover. "And there is nothing to forgive."

The soft complimentary purr of Prowl's systems as he teased back, clearly willing to give Jazz almost anything the mech wanted, needed. "Thank you."

Jazz nuzzled him, nuzzled his throat, then began to kiss along the sensitive cables. "Help me overwrite what I just did with what I was designed to do?"

A whimper escaped Prowl at the attention to his neck, and desire that he not realized had been building while Jazz was gone welled up in him. "Yes." Prowl murmured, "Please."

A moment of coherent thought and Prowl opened a comm line prefaced with a respectful request for attention and directed to Farsight.

::He needs a bit more attention?:: his CO's voice sounded amused.

::I think it would be beneficial, sir.:: Prowl replied.

A soft chuckle. ::Then I will see you for your next shift. I'll comm you if we have an emergency, but you're of more use if your processors are on your work and not the state of your lover.::

A brief flash of guilt- Prowl hadn't thought he had been that obvious while Jazz was gone- before Prowl answered and ended the connection. ::Thank you sir.::

Business complete he kissed Jazz thoroughly. "And now I am all yours."

"Good," Jazz shivered in anticipation of reclaiming the acts of his function from the dark places of his last job.

Prowl had to go to his shift, but Jazz hadn't felt like moving. He still hadn't felt like moving when Prowl returned and insisted he at least drink some energon before settling down to hold him for the evening and recharge. Another shift left Jazz alone, but feeling much better. It usually took him decacycles to be ready to be seen in public again. Two orns was a real record.

A long, thorough cleaning, polishing and self-detailing later and Jazz ventured outside his quarters.

Prowl would be off shift soon enough, and for as much time as he had been out of touch with the rest of the base it was time that Jazz could use to catch up on all of the gossip that Prowl hadn't had the time to share with him, and all of the gossip that Prowl wouldn't have found out anyway.

Music reached his audios, echoing from the common rec room and an indicator that some mech had probably gotten the idea to throw a random party.

Jazz grinned and slipped inside, taking a moment to pick out who was there, how overcharged the crowd was and the general mood.

It seemed to be a general mix of mechs and femmes, those who were off duty and looking for something to relieve the boredom and tension of living on a military installation in a largely destroyed city. Someone had even managed to find some mild highgrade and was willing to share, to judge from the overall mood.

Or make highgrade, Jazz amended as he spotted a couple of the better home brewers and grinned. Skyhigh's brew always made for a _great_ party. The Aerial had a real talent for making it just strong enough to relax a mech without getting them completely overcharged before the evening was half done.

With a grin Jazz made his way over to the bar to claim a cube and begin to catch up on the gossip and his social contacts ... and get spiked a few times by needy mechs.

The party was in full swing by the time the tactical unit went off shift and wandered in, Prowl all but dragged there by his co-workers. He'd eventually given in when Farsight had said that Jazz was there. He immediately looked for his lover and smiled to see the silver minibot between a mech's legs, eagerly sucking him off. Even he could tell Jazz was making the mech's orn, and he knew Jazz well enough to see the pleasure Jazz was taking in it.

Content that Jazz was occupied and well for the moment, Prowl took a seat with a Trailbreaker and Quickwit, figuring that Jazz would find out he was there soon enough and join him if he wished.

Discussion quickly turned to a mech that Trailbreaker had taken an interest in, a newcomer to the base with a similar history.

"Hey lover," Jazz purred before climbing into Prowl's lap to drape himself across the frame he loved to pleasure the most.

"Jazz." Prowl greeted him, wrapping an arm around the silver mech in welcome and not at all surprised to see him with several colors scrapes from various mechs he'd interfaced with there. ::Feeling better?::

::Much,:: Jazz snuggled into the hold before he stretched up to claim a hungry kiss.

::Glad to hear it.:: Prowl sighed, dragging out the kiss and not caring at all that is was in front of an audience. ::Any idea for the reason behind the party?::

::Just one of those 'we're board, Skyhigh has a fresh batch of high grade' ones,:: Jazz grinned, his engine purring at the contact as his hands mapped out Prowl's chassis, even though he knew every bit of it. When the kiss broke, Jazz's helm went down so he could nibble on Prowl's throat.

Prowl moaned, optics going dim as he simply enjoyed feeling what Jazz could do his frame, savoring every touch and letting Jazz feel the pleasure he was causing. He had no intention of letting this go much further, no matter how revved up Jazz made him. Not in front of his co-workers at any rate. The kissing and light pleasure though, he couldn't find it in himself to care that he was making something of a spectacle of himself in front of everyone. Jazz was enjoying it far too much, and so was he.

Conversation flowed around him, unheeded. His designation had not been used and neither was there any tone of alarm to draw his attention.

After a few more kliks Prowl came back to the present abruptly as the music changed, the the abrupt difference in frequency making his sensor wings flinch in initial surprise before settling as Prowl compensated for the input.

"Babe?" Jazz lifted his face from Prowl's neck to look him in the optics.

"Wasn't expecting the music change." Prowl explained quietly, twitching one wing for emphasis and explanation before he leaned for a kiss. "Sorry."

"Aw, poor thing," Jazz shifted his focus on 'soothing' the offended wing. "It's got a good beat though."

"Going to dance?"

"Love to," Jazz claimed a kiss, moving to get down only to realize Prowl wasn't planning to follow. "Dance with me?" he asked, his hands extended for the larger mech.

Prowl took hold of one hand, but only to pull the smaller mech closer for another kiss. ::I would prefer to stay here and watch. I am no dancer.::

::Aw,:: Jazz pouted into the kiss. ::I bet you'd be good at it. You have great balance and poise.::

Prowl laughed, breaking the kiss and nudging Jazz gently in the direction of the impromptu dance floor that had been cleared. ::Find us some music for me to try in private and I will consider it next time.:: He promised.

::Deal,:: Jazz winked his visor and twirled off to claim a dance partner who was more willing, and would make a _good_ show for Prowl to enjoy.

"Mech, if _that_ wanted my attention, I'd do whatever he wanted," Quickwit managed to say, her systems running _hot_ after the nearly breem-long display Jazz and Prowl had made.

"Hm?" Prowl looked at her, then shrugged a little, amused. "He'll have more fun with a real dance partner. Probably wouldn't say no if you are interested."

"I'm sure you're right, but it's not the same," she shook her head. "He wants you, no duty about it."

Golden optics wandered back to where Jazz had finally found himself a willing dance partner, following the smooth motions of the sleek silver form with full appreciation. "I know."

"Is he always like that?" Boomerang asked. "Always putting on a show."

"When he is in this sort of mood, yes. He likes what he is and he likes being admired for being good at what he is." Prowl answered, optics never leaving the scene on the dance floor that was starting to attract more attention that just his. Even though Jazz was only dancing, he was erotica in motion and carried himself with a shameless ease that was designed, right down to the spark that had been called, to draw all attention to him and make those watching _want_ him.

"What's it like, having _that_ whenever you want him?" Smokescreen asked, his tone more than a touch overcharged.

Prowl sighed softly, considering. He knew there was so much more to Jazz than many others got to see, the spark of the mech who was more than just a pleasurebot. More than just the facade he kept in place, the Jazz that meant so much to Prowl.

Instead he looked at the dancing mech on the floor again and allowed himself a small smile, knowing that he had so much more than any of them. "Amazing."

All conversation died when Jazz's dance moves went from enticing to seductive with a focus on the mech directly in front of him and behind him. When his hands moved from caressing his own frame to sliding along the spike covers of the two mechs an electric charge went around the room.

"You really don't mind watching him with others?" Quickwit managed to ask.

"No." Complete honesty in the answer, Prowl enjoying the show as much as everyone else. "This is how Jazz _is_." And Prowl loved him for being himself.

"Then he shouldn't mind sharing either," Smokescreen purred as he leaned over, his hand landing on Prowl's leg a bit too high to be friendly.

Prowl twitched, processor taking a moment to piece together everything that was happening before he sighed. "Smokescreen. No."

"Aww, come on Prowl," Smokescreen's voice was slightly staticky as he leaned closer, his field expanding with raw desire. "I'm not a pleasurebot, but I know what a Praxian likes."

"Not interested." Prowl said clearly, not responding in any other way to the mechs advances. He really didn't want to cause a scene with the other mech in the middle of a party that had been going so well. He knew he could push the other mech off him, even take him down any number of ways, and the rest of the unit was now paying at least some attention to what was happening between their two newest members.

"Not even in a proper spiking?" Smokescreen trilled softly, his frame shifting to press against Prowl's as his mouth found Prowl's neck cables. "I know he's not much of a dom, and I bet neither are you."

Before Prowl could push him off Smokescreen went stiff, then screamed in pure agony before being yanked away and to the floor.

"Mine," Jazz stood over him, Smokescreen's sensor wing still in his hand and crimped in a particularly painful way that caused little actual damage.

Prowl almost felt sorry when he saw the angle of Smokescreens wing. Even if it didn't leave much damage, the painful sensation would linger for a couple orns without some attention, and from the bright shock in Smokescreen's optics this was the last thing he had expected.

From the expressions of most of those around him Prowl could tell it was pretty much the last thing that any of them had expected.

"Jazz." He called, attempting to divert the minibot's attention before things got any more out of hand.

The effect was instant, Jazz's face snapped up to his, then he let Smokescreen's sensor wing go and took the couple steps to his lover. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"I'm fine." Prowl assured him, field flaring out to reinforce the statement, calm and composed. ::I have dealt with the attention before. It has just been a while since any of them dared to touch me while they were propositioning me.::

::He's seriously overcharged,:: Jazz shrugged before remembering to close his valve cover. "But I think I'll stay with you anyway," he added and climbed into Prowl's lap as Smokescreen pulled himself off the floor with the assistance of Boomerang and a chair. "If you're taking him to medical, make sure they know it's because he couldn't keep his hands to himself," Jazz added with a soft growl.

A shake of his head and Boomerang help a shaken Smokescreen away from his attacker.

Prowl sighed and shifted in his seat, arranging them both to be more comfortable. "You know you are always welcome." A moment of thought. "Is Ratchet not as forgiving then?"

Jazz snickered. "Of getting hurt because of overcharged stupidity and coming in for pain and no real damage? Not a chance."

"I thought not." Prowl murmured, amused as he reached for his half finished cube of highgrade, relaxing a little more as the party started to flow around them again.

"Where did you learn to do that, Jazz?" Farsight asked with simple curiosity.

"Applied knowledge," Jazz shrugged before snuggling against Prowl a little more. "I did have to learn to protect myself once I was on my own. The same upgrades that help me spot where a touch will feel good also tells me how much pressure will be too much."

There were nods of appreciation from the rest gathered around the table at the secondary use for his upgrades, and a flare of pride and approval from Prowl as well as he kissed Jazz's helm lightly. The table settled back into pleasant small talk, or little talk. They all had Prowl's general tendency to stay on the sidelines and watch. Eventually though, Jazz's small touches and mounting arousal was signal enough for Prowl to excuse them for the evening.

He barely got the door closed and locked when Jazz pushed him back, against the wall, his field hungry and dominant in a way Prowl hadn't felt before.

"Jazz?" Question around Prowl's immediate response, desire and arousal flaring in answer to the sudden change in his lover.

"Want you," Jazz shuddered in his own desires and he stretched up for a kiss as his hands moved down the Praxian's chest. "Want..." his voice cut off with a burst of static as his function protocols objected. "Want your submission." He forced out.

"Yours." Given freely and willingly as Prowl's entire body language went submissive, inviting his lover to do as he pleased.

Jazz groaned, shuddered at the offering that was his to give being given so willingly to him. A gentle tug brought Prowl to his knees, gave Jazz the height advantage, for the next kiss where Jazz's glossa demanded entrance.

Prowl moaned, welcoming the kiss and following Jazz's direction, fulfilling the silver mech's wants eagerly. Letting go with the mech that had reminded him that it was all right to not be in control all the time. Trusting the mech he loved to know his limits and not to cross them.

Hands found Prowl's valve cover, sharp claws curled against it, scraping against the sensitive metal as they demanded entrance while Jazz plundered Prowl's mouth.

Immediate obedience, the cover sliding away to grant the access Jazz demanded as Prowl whimpered, wings flaring slightly. He could feel Jazz's ventilations, harsh and fast. The flare of the smaller mech's field as he indulged in a desire, possibly for the first time.

"Good mech," Jazz whispered as he broke the kiss. He tipped Prowl's chin back, exposing his throat to Jazz's mouth.

"Yes." Prowl whispered, begging and offering, loving what was being done to him and waiting eagerly for direction, instruction. He gave a wordless cry when his valve, slick but untouched, was suddenly full in a single hard thrust and Jazz bit down on a main energon line.

Surprisingly strong hands closed on Prowl's shoulders, pushing him into the hard thrusts coming up. Despite the appearance, Prowl could feel it in Jazz's field that those hands were as much to keep his lover focused, a part of the fantasy, as they were intended to pull Prowl into each thrust.

It was that field, even more than the physical touches, that caused Prowl to moan. The fantasy-high, a bliss that was hardly physical, dominated Jazz's field and pushed into Prowl's hard.

This Jazz was so different from what he was used to that all Prowl could do was give in, to submit to what was being pushed at him and to fall into the bliss Jazz was providing. Jazz's overload came first, crashing through the silver mech in a maelstrom of satisfaction he was wholly unprepared for.

The energy slamming in Prowl raised a cry from the Praxian, his entire frame quivering on the brink of release

With a growl Jazz continued to thrust through his overload and reached one hand back to stroke one of the sensor-rich points of the wings spread before him and flat against the wall. Sensitive wing input pushed Prowl into overload, calling Jazz's designation in bliss and wonder, EM field pushing back into the smaller mech with a desire to share what was welcomed.

As they came down, Jazz's forehelm came to rest against Prowl's. Their vents pumped out superheated air while they recovered.

"Wow," Jazz managed to gasp out.

"Certainly different." Prowl murmured in agreement, holding Jazz against his chest as they came slowly down from the high together. "Not that I am objecting at all," he kissed Jazz's helm softly.

"I can feel that," Jazz tipped his face up to claim a lazy, sloppy kiss. "Thank you, lover."

"My pleasure." Prowl purred, finally recovered enough to tease gently, though with complete sincerity, before initiating another kiss.

Jazz hummed into the touch for a lingering moment before pulling away slightly. "Berth?"

Prowl nodded, letting go of the silver mech. "I like the sound of that."

With a playful wink of his visor Jazz spun around and danced backwards, his hands outstretched for his lover and a broad smile on his face as he led the way.

With a groan Prowl got to his feet, laughing as he finally found his balance with a flare of his wings, and made it quite clear how much he appreciated the graceful movements of his lover as he followed willingly. By the time he reached the berth he'd had the delight of watching Jazz fall backwards onto the plush mattress and sprawl with impossible grace into a most enticing pose.

The high, playful mood was contagious and Prowl stopped just out of reach, looking down at Jazz, optics bright. "Now what I supposed to do with you?"

Suddenly a look crossed Jazz's face that Prowl could only classify as nervous plotting.

"Educate a virgin on how you like to interface?" Jazz's voice trembled slightly.

"I could..." Prowl murmured leaning over Jazz with his sensor wings flared in full display. "Or we could play some more..." A hardline port opened in invitation, a hopeful glint in his optics.

"Anything you want, lover," Jazz purred, reaching up to slide his arms around Prowl's neck before they exchanged hardline cables. ~You're always good.~

Pride and a hint of shyness as Prowl kissed him, bits and pieces of a fantasy that had been teasing at Prowl flowing across the connection between them, and a quiet prodding for what would please Jazz. He received more than he could have ever imagined. His lover had been sparked to interface, programmed to explore it fully and learn it all and gifted with a curious, adaptive, loving spark.

Jazz offered up a memory block that could take a lifetime to explore, indexed and cross-referenced with extensive tags to make for easy access.

As Prowl downloaded it all, he also realized that he'd only been given those fantasies that worked for his frametype and mass relative to Jazz.

~Jazz...~ Soft whisper of wonder still at the fact that Jazz wanted be with him, was willing to defy everything that would keep them apart, and wanted to share this with him.

He offered up a more complete picture of what he had imagined- his wings and his valve at Jazz's mercy, asking Jazz to dominate again before Prowl pinned the smaller mech to the berth and worshiped Jazz's frame as he deserved.

The jolt of desire/pleasure/_yes_ was answer enough, but Jazz pulled him down into a kiss anyway. ~I like how you think, lover.~

A happy purr as Prowl leaned into the kiss before breaking off and tugging questioningly at the hardline, his entire frame quivering in anticipation since Jazz had agreed.

Jazz chuckled, stole a quick kiss and unplugged their chest-to-chest cables so they could move. Gentle, firm hands guided Prowl to his hands and knees, then moved to reconnect their primary hardline plugs with a surge of anticipatory desire.

~Beautiful,~ Jazz murmured as he shifted back to look at the frame kneeling before him, the exposed valve and spread wings. ~I'm going to _taste_ you first.~

~Anything.~ Prowl offered, sensor wings flicking and flaring, enticing. The hard rev of Jazz's engine felt good, as did the flare of desire across the hardline. The desire he felt from Jazz as Jazz shared what he was seeing, feeling, experiencing, as he slid his fingertips lightly around the slick entrance to Prowl's valve was erotic in the extreme.

Prowl whimpered softly, frame quivering as he held himself still, desire flaring in response at the pleasure Jazz was deriving from the sight, the feel of _him_. Not of a valve slick and ready to be taken, but of _Prowl's_ ready and eager one.

A low, quiet moan drifted from Jazz's vocalizer as he took his time, exploring every minute detail to record away for his later reply.

~Love you, Prowl,~ Jazz shivered as he lightly pressed a single finger into the opening.

~Jazz.~ Moaning, blissful response, wanting more but loving the slow torturous pleasure that Jazz was inflicting upon him. ~Love you.~

Slowly, still feeding Prowl all his data and feeding himself as much from Prowl as he could, Jazz lowered himself to replace his finger with his glossa. Slowly he swirled it around the slick entrance, tasting their mingled fluids and teasing every sensor node he found.

~Love you. Want you. Jazz.~ Prowl moaned, shamelessly encouraging Jazz in any way he could, feeling what Jazz was feeling secondhand and feeling what Jazz was doing to him firsthand and rapidly loosing the ability to do anything but feel.

By the time Jazz slid his spike in they were both trembling, lost in the shared sensations. When hands found wings it was all Prowl could do not to overload right then.

Instead he forced himself to focus on the skillful glide of knowing hands on his wings, of the wonderful sensation of Jazz filling him, of the heated weight of his lover covering him in a way he had only ever dreamed about.

All of it acknowledged, felt, shared with Jazz across the hardline and through fields merged so deeply they blurred.

When the overload came, it was a rolling tide, pleasure as emotional as it was physical lapping up on them, through them. There was no telling for either of them what sensation came from who, no need to work it out. It was nearly as complete as a full spark merge, and both mechs gladly fell into the union.

How long he was lost in bliss, lost in Jazz, Prowl didn't know and for once didn't care to try and figure out.

~Jazz?~ Affection, contentment, and a deep love sent along every connection with the question.

~Right here,~ he purred affectionately in reply without any effort to prompt Prowl into figuring out where he was or what was going on. Thanks to his pleasurebot protocols, Jazz had never completely lost track, but he was more than content to snuggle up with his lover as they drifted back to full reality.

~Amazing.~ Prowl murmured, making sure it was very clear who the compliment was directed towards. ~Thank you.~

~You're welcome, lover,~ Jazz nuzzled the back of his neck. ~You're wonderful.~

A soft purr from Prowl as he relaxed, still blissfully content as he finally took the time to look at the files Jazz had sent him as Jazz carefully shifted to snuggle against his chest, allowing the Praxian to hold him.

~I don't expect to do them all,~ Jazz offered. ~It's just my fantasy file for our mass difference. What I want when I trade favors with another pleasurebot.~

~Thank you.~ Prowl smiled, kissing him gently. ~I like knowing what _you_ really enjoy.~

~I hope you find a few things in there that work for you too,~ Jazz melted into the kiss and pressed closer, his field rich with contentment and pleasure. ~It really works best when you're enjoying it for more than just to please me.~

~There is.~ Prowl reassured him, having already noted several things that caught his interest. ~And you know how much I enjoy you. Just you.~

~It's mutual,~ Jazz murmured and snuggled in, content to rest his face against Prowl's throat and feel the hum of the Praxian's systems against his frame and across the hardline. ~Are you enjoying your work here?~

~Still adjusting some, I believe, but yes. It is very different, having others I can work with who have more interest than their own personal gain at spark .~ Prowl sighed softly, wrapping an arm around Jazz to hold the mech. ~Even if some of them do not seem to understand how I feel about you.~

~My own caste can't understand us,~ Jazz pointed out gently. ~I can hardly blame others for not getting it. It goes against everything my kind are supposed to be.~

~Including that little display at the party?~ Prowl asked, curious. ~I think you managed to surprise everyone.~

Jazz ducked his helm, shame flickering along with a fierce determination. ~That ... I shouldn't have been _able_ to do that. Can't ... _won't_ regret it. He had no right to paw at you like that.~

Prowl kissed the top of his helm, prodding gently, questioningly at the shame. ~I don't want you to regret it. I don't want you to do anything that is going to cause you pain either. Smokescreen will come to accept my choice. Or at least learn to keep his hands to himself.~ He held Jazz tighter. "Yours."

~I hurt someone who didn't ask for it,~ he explained the shame. ~Even if he _deserved_ it, and I didn't damage him, it goes against coding and socialization. It's not good for a pleasurebot to have a temper,~ he added, then tipped his helm up for a kiss. ~If you _want_ their attention, like you _want_ to be with Soundwave, I'm okay with that. When he kept at you after you said no ... it triggered something.~

Prowl considered that, thoughtful as he kissed Jazz. ~Something you do not like.~ He concluded.

~It's anti-social to be violent,~ Jazz shrugged. ~A bad rep in my function and you starve, tortured by your programming for lack of jobs. So no, I don't like having that kind of response.~

Prowl hummed softly in understanding, nuzzling at the smaller mech's helm. ~As long as it doesn't trouble you too much in the present, I doubt you will face that kind of problem here. As you pointed out, I did tell him no, and you have made it rather clear that it is only towards me.~

~It's not a problem, it's just embarrassing to remember,~ Jazz assured him. ~I'm not afraid it'll hurt me that much. It's just ... embarrassing, you know?~

~No, I don't.~ Prowl murmured, sounding regretful of the fact.

Pleased amusement trickled over the hardline. ~Lucky mech. That's something to treasure.~

Prowl sighed, still sorry that it was something that bothered Jazz that he could not understand. ~If you say so.~

~I say so,~ Jazz murmured with a kiss. ~Innocence is a precious thing. Still miss Soundwave?~

A sharp vent from Prowl, optics flickering off and barely contained grief and longing flared from the Praxian. ~Every orn. If you weren't here with me...~

~You'd make it, but you have me,~ Jazz assured him, stroking Prowl's wings comfortingly. ~I'm here and I'm not leaving you.~

Prowl shook his helm, wings trembling just a bit, convinced that the silver mech was giving him more credit than he deserved. He'd changed too much from that mech that Jazz had first met vorns ago, that one that had continued to function by learning to not care.

~Hey, have as much faith in yourself as I have in you,~ Jazz said gently but firmly. ~I don't trust easily. I don't offer my spark to just anyone.~

~Thank you.~ What he asked...was difficult for Prowl, a mech whose self worth was so often tied in to the approval of others. ~I am the one who does not deserve you, but thank you.~

Jazz hummed and nuzzled him. ~We'll work on that self-esteem. I'd never offer myself to a mech who doesn't deserve me. You're worthy, Prowl. Of me, of Soundwave. Of everything that makes you happy.~

Prowl pulled him close, kissing him. ~You make me happy.~

~You make me happy too,~ Jazz moaned into the kiss. ~You feel so good.~

Hands traveled down Jazz's side, suggestive as they traced over plating and dipped into armor seams. ~How good?~

~Very good,~ Jazz purred, pressing into the touches and returning them as he stretched up for a kiss. ~Love you. _Want_ you.~

A soft growl as Prowl granted the kiss but owned it, glossa demanding entrance as the Praxian rolled, pinning the smaller mech beneath him as his field flared, full of desire and need.

Jazz's response was instant and reflexive, but also pure in its honesty. Absolute submission as he relaxed his frame and stretched out, his wrists crossed above his helm, was mixed with intense, spark-deep arousal.

Prowl's tactical computer finally finished phrasing all the fantasies Jazz had given up and provided Prowl with its report, both summary and detailed. As varied as the scenarios had seemed, those tagged 'best' all contained two elements in common: Jazz at the absolute mercy of his lover and that lover focusing on _Jazz's_ pleasure in the guise of using him.

A moment of planning was all Prowl needed to integrate the new information, reaching up to secure Jazz's wrists with one hand while the other began to tease down the silver mechs side, finding all of the sensitive gaps and spots in the frame that Prowl knew very well. His lover was more than happy to oblige with moans, pressing into the touches as he squirmed in desire. Across the hardline Prowl was blasted with just how intense 'best' meant to Jazz as his lover all but lost his ability to process anything but the desire coursing through him.

The kiss lost its desperate edge, though none of its intensity as Prowl growled softly, possessively and finally moved to share attention to Jazz's face and neck as their fields meshed firmly for the building interface.

More of Prowl's attention shifted to Jazz, his powerful processor focused on the smaller mech, recalling everything that he knew pleased and pleasured Jazz, drawing from the information he had been recently given, and focusing all of it on the single goal of bringing Jazz pleasure for once.

Every response was noted, filed away as Prowl's free hand dove into Jazz hip, seeking the wires and sensors there that had always gotten such a beautiful response from his lover when played just right. Jazz did not disappoint, his entire frame going taunt with every touch as his cries caressed Prowl's audios and the hardline fed every blissful sensation right to Prowl.

"So beautiful." Prowl moaned, catching Jazz in another kiss as he abandoned the joint, moving to press over the smaller mechs valve covering. ~Give.~

Without hesitation Jazz spread his legs and brought his knees up as the cover snapped open, allowing Prowl's fingers to slide forward against the valve's entrance. The thickness of the lubricant coating left no doubt just how ready Jazz was. Neither did the desperate little sounds and intense blast of arousal over the hardline.

Prowl moaned, frame quivering at the intense emotion from Jazz layered over his own desire and arousal, fingers circling and teasing at the valve in way that tortured them both for a moment before Prowl pulled away, drawing a whimper from Jazz at the loss.

Back arched and wings flared wide, Prowl looked down, systems working furiously. "Jazz."

"Please," Jazz's voice was nearly a whine, desperate and needy as he rocked his hips upwards, seeking more contact. "Prowl."

"Look at me." Prowl asked quietly, field pushing into the smaller mech with how much the single, simple request meant to Prowl.

Immediately the visor snapped its focus to Prowl's optics, the hardline reinforcing that Prowl had Jazz's absolute, undivided attention from every sense, every relay in Jazz's processors and his entire frame was Prowl's.

With moan Prowl thrust into Jazz, planting a gentle kiss on smaller mech's helm before just focusing on watching Jazz's expression, of listening to the smaller mech and looking to drive him into absolute bliss.

Jazz did his best to maintain his optic focus on Prowl's optics, but by the forth thrust the pleasure spiraling out from his valve and his spark was too much. His chest arched up and helm fell back with a resonant moan. Even as his valve squeezed and rippled around Prowl's spike, Jazz's chest plates split apart and his spark chamber spiraled open.

~Please, love you, want you, want _everything_,~ Jazz chanted incoherently.

~Yours.~ Prowl whispered softly, chest plates opening to expose his spark and sinking down as their sparks reached out and meshed, each desperate for the other, for the pure pleasure of the merge. Everything else fell away, lost to the joint bliss that overwhelmed everything but the exchange of how happy the other was.


	32. The Price of Deceit

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Death, Bonding, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 32: The Price of Deceit<p>**

* * *

><p>He held it together until the door closed behind him, lock engaging automatically.<p>

Only then did he break.

Frame shaking and sensor wings held tight against a pain that was internal and no amount of armor could shield him from, Prowl's optics went dark as his processor was finally allowed to focus on the pain in his spark. Soundwave was gone, fallen in battle. Preliminary reports only, but all of the evidence overwhelming short of a greyed frame.

The cheers of celebration still echoed in Prowl's processor, the rejoicing of his fellow Autobots at the news that the Decepticon third was gone and no longer a threat to them.

A soft keen of pain escaped Prowl as he sank to his knees, shattered hopes, dreams and lost love in his spark playing endlessly in a loop. A loop he couldn't escape. Soundwave was gone, the symbiots most likely scattered if they had survived his fall. Their carefully laid plans were finished, dependant on the host for success and now pointless with his loss.

Oblivious to the outside world, Prowl mourned his loss in private.

He was unaware of how long had passed before a familiar mind brushed against his processors.

~Prowl? I heard, love. I'm so sorry.~

There were no words in the response, only sparkbreak and sorrow and a desperate need from Prowl for something to ease the pain and self-loathing flowing through him.

Jazz responded with all the love, understanding, belief in Prowl and their cause that he had in him, wordlessly wrapping Prowl in a mental blanket of comfort and support.

The Praxian's entire frame began to shake as he started to focus outside of his own pain again, reaching out blindly for Jazz, for something physical to anchor himself with and quickly found that Jazz was already holding him, their frames pressed close together and on the berth. He didn't think he'd reached the berth. He didn't care. Jazz was there, warm, very real and offering Prowl all the support he could.

~Gone.~ Prowl whimpered softly, pulling Jazz against him. ~Because of me. My plan, my call.~

~I'm so sorry, love,~ Jazz held him tighter. Even though he didn't share Prowl's grief at Soundwave's end, he opened himself up fully to Prowl's pain, embracing it as his own in an effort to comfort the mech he loved. ~I'm so sorry.~

Failure. Despair. Fear.

Failure. Prowl sinking again into himself, falling as his processor lingered on what he had done, the mechs on his own side that he had saved when he made the call not even enough to make it right in his mind.

The empty place in his spark now, a place that before had always been filled with hope dying and dark. ~In the Well...~

~Hey, hey, come back,~ Jazz's voice grew desperate. ~Please, Prowl. I love you too. I _want_ you. I _love_ you. Don't join him yet. Please babe. Stay with me.~

Slow recognition of the desperate plea, and the mech voicing it. ~Jazz.~

~I'm here, babe,~ Jazz's relief was palatable. ~I'm here. Not going anywhere either. I know it hurts, but you aren't alone.~

A soft keen, vocal expression of the pain still burning in his spark as Prowl reached out. ~Don't go.~

~I'm here, babe,~ Jazz promised, holding him tightly. ~I'm not going anywhere.~

The pain was still there, deep self hatred and the despair, but the fear was fading, that at least relieved by the nearness and promises of the smaller mech. The love was finally accepted, as much of an anchor in reality for Prowl as the physical grip he had on the mech holding him.

Golden optics flickered, focusing weakly but offering more proof to the trembling Praxian that this was real.

~I'm here, Prowl,~ Jazz repeated, a gentle litany for his lover's mind just as his grip was grounding for his lover's frame. ~Recharge, babe,~ he suggested gently. ~I'll be here when you cycle up.~ he promised.

Exhaustion was the deciding factor, the one that finally pushed Prowl into giving into his lover, finally managing a thread of sincere thanks and acknowledgment of his lover being _there_, with him as his systems cycled down without his consent.

~Love you,~ was the last thought to drift from Prowl and was warmly returned as Jazz settled in for a long watch on light recharge so he could be fully aware the moment Prowl began to cycle up. In a shielded part of his processor he pinged Ratchet, Black Echo and Prime with the basics and that they would need a few orns off.

The rise to conscious functioning was a slow one, Prowl's systems sluggish to the point that a small part of his processor was disturbed and instantly searching for a reason as soon as enough critical functions had been scanned.

Reason enough that a soft whimper of fresh pain escaped him before the rest of his secondary systems came online.

A mind, warm, encouraging and supportive was right there for him as soon as he could notice the additional systems.

~Hey babe,~ Jazz said gently.

~Jazz.~ Prowl sighed, optics coming online and focusing on the smaller mech, coherent even if they were still dim with internal pain. After a moment he tried moving, finding it more of a struggle than it should have been.

~How long?~

~Six joor,~ Jazz murmured. ~You were out a long time. Think you can drink some energon?~

~Need it.~ Prowl admitted, though a small part of his processor wanted to refuse. A small part that just wanted to go back into recharge and not cycle back up again, and bring an end to the pain.

A small part that was only denied by the mech before him, holding a glowing cube of energon and watching him so carefully.

~I know, babe,~ Jazz said gently as he brought the cube to Prowl's mouth. ~I know you want to do anything but keep going. It'll always hurt, but there's still reason to function. You just have to trust me that eventually it won't hurt this bad.~

Quiet fell as Prowl took the energon, eventually reaching for the cube and arranging things so that he was holding Jazz against him as he finished the rest.

~I trust you.~ He stated quietly. ~Love you. Sorry.~

~Shu, no need to apologize to me,~ Jazz said gently as he dissipated the cube, then wrapped both arms around Prowl, holding him tightly. ~I've never lost a lover, but I've lost ... I've lost things before, things I'll grieve until Primus puts my spark back together. Times I was desperate to power down and extinguish, or throw myself into something I knew I couldn't handle. I've been where you are. You've seen where you can go.~

The Praxian held him, trembling again from the fresh waves of pain but at least conscious and coherent this time. Soundwave had been more than a lover to him, they had been family. Or at least the closest thing that Prowl had ever had.

Family that he had wanted the mech he held now to be a part of, someday, if Jazz would agree. And the strongest thing that was keeping him here at all.

~I have agreed,~ Jazz murmured, stroking Prowl's back and sensor wings in an effort to comfort him. ~When I offered my spark, I knew Soundwave and his symbiots were part of the deal. If any of the symbiots survived ... I know a host who would take them in, if we can find them.~

Gratitude, thanks, and the first small flickers of hope again in Prowl as everything Jazz had said sank into his processor.

And love for Jazz that only grew clearer, anchoring Prowl just a little a more in the here and now.

~That's my Prowl,~ Jazz smiled warmly with a rush of love and support. ~Don't hide from the pain, but you've got so much to keep functioning for. Try to think, where would they go if they lost him?~

~If they could? To me, or if they couldn't find me maybe to Ratchet or the Prime. Someone who wouldn't shoot them on sight.~ Prowl answered after a moments consideration, arranging Jazz more comfortably against him as he cautiously started using the computers that dropped him into the loop.

~Probably a safe bet they know where you are, and Ratchet and Prime are _easy_ for anybody in Intel to find,~ Jazz murmured thoughtfully. ~If they couldn't? What Con base would they go to?~

Information and stored data, the latest intel that Prowl had and none of it guaranteed 100% accurate after even the short time that he had been away, but enough to give Prowl some answers. ~Provided nothing has changed...~ He listed three 'Con bases in order of probability.

~And that would only be if they were able to find the few who view them as more than smart drones.~ He added quietly, recalling the image the symbiots liked to maintain among the Decepticons.

~Is there a message someone could give them, something that would tell them that you sent the messenger enough to trust them?~ Jazz easily slid into mission planning mode, no longer that concerned whether Prowl worked out what he was. ~I have friends and mechs who owe me favors or would love to be owed a favor, that can search those bases.~

For a while Prowl thought, remembering, considering. If there was any chance to save any of them, with Soundwave gone, it was worth the risk.

Finally he vented softly, optics focusing again. ~If it is possible, this might get them to come.~

Jazz nodded, filed the memory away with a bit of surprise, and began to make calls from a shielded part of his processor. ~It's set in motion, babe,~ he promised. ~News should come back in an orn or two.~

~Thank you.~ Prowl held him tighter, too tired even after recharge and energon to wonder at _how_ Jazz was able to do that and just satisfied with the idea that something positive had been into motion.

~Recharge, my love,~ Jazz encouraged him. ~I will be here for you.~

~Love you.~ Prowl murmured in what was becoming almost a ritual as he slipped into recharge.

As Prowl slipped into light recharge, then deeper, Jazz shifted more and more of his processor power behind the partition blacking Prowl's awareness of his actions. He had a _lot_ to arrange, including making sure that Blaster really would adopt any of the symbiots, and making sure that Soundwave really had extinguished. It wouldn't be the first premature report of a death, and they had yet to find the empty frame.

By the time Prowl began to power up again, Jazz had slipped into light recharge himself, though not so far down that he wasn't fully aware before Prowl was.

~Hey lover. How're ya feeling?~

~Still hurts.~ Prowl confessed, nuzzling Jazz gently. ~But better.~

Slowly Prowl allowed what he could remember of the past few orns to come back, trying to establish how long he had been practically non functional.

~Forty joors,~ Jazz supplied, nuzzling him in return. ~Glad you're feeling a little better.~

Prowl flinched, his sense of duty finally finding it's way to the surface again. ~Need to get back to work.~

~Not until you've recovered,~ Jazz objected. ~I'll get Ratchet involved if I need to.~

~Recovered?~ Prowl repeated softly, sure that he would never really recover from this. ~And when will that be?~

~When I can be away for my shift and you're okay,~ Jazz said firmly. ~Or at least until Ratchet and I are convinced you won't break down when left alone for a couple joors.~

~I am not alone when I am working.~ Prowl pointed out, though he really wasn't fighting too hard at the moment, his obvious relief at having Jazz there in his arms clear between them.

~No, you aren't,~ Jazz consented. ~But you aren't _with_ anyone either. It's much better for you to stay off duty until you're sure you can make it than have issues again. Ratchet's overheated processor issue will only fly so many times.~

Prowl hummed in agreement, giving into the point as he held Jazz. ~Maybe I can find something to do with you here, for a while?~ It was hopeful, and Prowl would admit, an escape from the pain.

But at least he would be doing something besides sitting there trying to avoid the pain eating at him.

~Anything, babe,~ Jazz purred. ~Interface, design a sparkling, read, a game, detail each other?~

Amusement, weak but there, as Prowl leaned his helm against Jazz's. ~I was thinking some sort of work I could do, but...~ He stretched a sensor wing cautiously, thinking how good it would feel to have them clean again, done by someone who could reach easier than he could.

~We could both use a good detailing,~ Jazz smiled and leaned in to kiss him. ~And it does feel good.~

~Please?~ Prowl asked softly, offering as well to work on his lover.

~Anytime, Prowler,~ Jazz cooed. ~Anytime at all,~ he nudged Prowl to move so they could get to the private washrack. Reluctantly they unplugged from each other, leaning closer to make up for the loss.

Cycling up again, Prowl reached out for Jazz, a habit for him any more. Even just touching the mind of his lover in recharge was enough to settle him as he cycled up.

Only this time as he reached out all he found was emptiness, a gap in the place that Jazz usually occupied. Panic protocols that had not been utilized in vorns kicked in, bringing Prowl fully online to an empty berth and a leading to the Praxian rising to search their quarters.

With no sign of Jazz anywhere in their quarters and no messages waiting for him Prowl opened a comm line directed to the silver mech. ::Jazz?::

::Frag, I'm sorry babe,:: the response was immediate. ::Ratchet wanted a report. I didn't think you'd be up yet.::

::Just as long as you're all right.:: Prowl answered, relieved and trying to hide just how badly shaken he was. ::I will wait for you to get back then.::

::Be there ASAP, love,:: Jazz promised before closing the line.

Prowl tried to settle, tried to find something to focus on, and failed. He paced restlessly, shaking and starting to fall into a loop even though he was in motion. Nanokliks seemed to pass as kliks, kliks became joors ... by the time three breems had passed and the door slid open with a soft hiss Prowl was only just hanging on to not panicking.

"Prowl?" Jazz's voice was concerned, his hands focused but gentle as Prowl was guided to their berth. "You with me, babe?"

Prowl nodded, pulling Jazz against him as soon as they were settled, still shaking. "Couldn't feel you when I cycled up. Couldn't find you. Panicked."

Apology was thick in Prowl's field, but also evident was the deep fear he had felt.

Jazz wove his field into Prowl's easily and completely, trying to sooth him as he got them arranged on the berth so they were holding each other. "I'm sorry, lover," he murmured as he offered a hardline cable.

The offer was quickly accepted, the Praxian calming now that Jazz was back with him. "Not your fault. My fault. I should be able to at least cycle up." Prowl sighed, shame replacing the fading panic.

~Shu. I know, babe. I know,~ Jazz cooed soothingly. ~It'll get better in time. I promise. It'll get better.~

Mostly under control again Prowl nuzzled at Jazz, reassuring himself again that the smaller mech was there. ~I did not interrupt your meeting with Ratchet too badly?~

~Not at all,~ Jazz smiled and kissed the crest of his chevron. ~I'm used to multi-tasking. It definitely delayed any ideas of returning to work though,~ he apologized.

Prowl sighed, processor starting to work on a side thought. ~How much longer?

~Educated guess? Anther three orns, at least.~ Jazz said gently. ~Maybe as long as a decaorn.~

~How much longer is Ratchet going to be able to make excuses for me?~

~As long as it's needed,~ Jazz said firmly.

A flicker of relief, even though Prowl didn't believe Ratchet could make excuses that long. Nor could they afford for both of them to be tied up that long.

~Remember, love, Black Echo and Prime both know too,~ Jazz tried to reassure him. ~Even if your coworkers question the absence length, no one needs to be convinced of a lie.~

Acceptance of that fact as Prowl's hands started roaming over Jazz's plating, always returning the silver mechs chest to caress the area over his spark. It was more than enough to trigger arousal in Jazz and turn his touches from comforting to sensual.

Prowl's head dropped forward, resting against Jazz's. ~Do you remember what you asked me, the offer you made? Do you still want that peace?~

Jazz shivered, his systems going into overdrive. Oh yes, he remembered. He wanted it very, very much.

~There are a few things I need to tell you before you accept that offer,~ Jazz said, absolutely dreading this but no longer willing to bond to an unaware Prowl.

~Listening.~ Prowl prompted gently.

Jazz drew in a deep breath through his vents and steeled himself before he began to drop firewalls Prowl hadn't even been aware existed. ~I've been an Ops agents since before Megatron, and I do it _all_.~

Silence as Prowl listened, processed, inspected the information and finally nudged gently at Jazz, sighing. ~And?~

~And I can sorcel,~ Jazz murmured, showing Prowl his primary alternate forms. Top Notch and Korrës were quick to be recognized. Others came only with a reflexive database check on the designations given. Quicksilver, Prata Aave, Na Tien, Slitherquick.

Then one that made Jazz tremble.

A short black, white and gold Praxian with three sensor wing segments and a deep purple visor was presented to Prowl with the designation of Meister.

Several of the designations cleared up mysteries that had been nagging at the Praxian over the vorns since he had first encountered them, bringing questions to the surface. Questions pushed aside for the time being with the revelation of the last form.

Surprise, understanding, and an edge of amusement at Prowl's own expense.

~And all this time you let me believe you needed my protection.~

Jazz smiled shakily. ~It's part of the Jazz profile. He does, kinda. Most of my combat training is locked in other profiles. Korrës is the best of them, though Top Notch is better at brawling and general mayhem. Prata Aave and Meister are both assassins more than warriors.~

~So how do you remember who you are?~ Prowl asked quietly.

~It's an Ops thing. The profiles really are separate. It takes a soft reboot to bring a new one up. Some aren't even aware of the others, or all the others. I know, _Jazz_ knows, because he was the first. This frame really was sparked a pleasurebot designation Jazz. Black Echo just found me and took me in earlier than I let on, and for a lot more than I want to think about.~

Prowl kissed him, still trying to work out how all of it worked. ~So even when he is someone else, Jazz remembers who he is?~

~Most of the time,~ he nodded, relaxing into the kiss and the lack of rejection. ~True deep cover profiles don't, but I don't do that often. I'm too useful to loose for long.~

Prowl hummed, understanding that as he waited for Jazz continue.

Another deep in-vent. ~I was sent to seduce you, convert you, by any means necessary. _Any_ means, including forcing a bond or reprogramming.~ He lowered his helm to Prowl's. ~I never expected _I'd_ be the one to fall in love. Never expected it to be anything more than another job. All I'm programmed to be still insists it shouldn't be possible.~

A long silence with this revelation, and the feeling of Prowl's processors working very deeply. ~Just convert me?~ Prowl finally asked, looking for clarification on a point that was important to him.

~Yes,~ Jazz nodded. ~My orders were to get you to defect so Prime would have use of your tactical genius instead of facing it.~

~And the decision to stay with me after I changed sides?~

~Mine,~ Jazz murmured. ~Black Echo approved when I asked to; he liked that you'd be under a skilled watch. My request to bond was all mine too,~ he added, his mind quiet, subdued, or at least as much as it ever was. ~My mission was over the moment I delivered you to Black Echo.~

Finally Prowl kissed him. ~I love you. I have for a very long time.~ Prowl said. ~And I always will. But want to be sure it is something that you _want_.~

~Yes, it is something I want very much. My only lies to you were ones of omission,~ he promised. ~As many as those were, I never said anything I didn't mean.~

Acceptance, clear and complete from Prowl and Jazz let all the tension drain from him.

~I do love you Prowl,~ he whispered, daring to claim a soft, warm but chaste kiss. ~I'll give everything for your happiness.~

~Love you.~ Prowl said again, firm and sure as he deepened the kiss before moving to nuzzle at Jazz. ~It would make me very happy to have a part of you with me always, and to always be with you. I was being selfish when I told you no before.~

He was being selfish asking now, but he hoped Jazz would forgive him that when he truly wanted the small mech as his own.

Surprise flashed across Jazz's processors, then uncertainty mixed with concern. ~Are you _sure_?~ He pushed the concern that Prowl was making a rash decision because of loosing Soundwave to the fore. The fear that Prowl would regret, or even resent, the bond when he had recovered fully. Behind that all, though, was a very desperate desire to be assured, to be able to say yes and face Ratchet's wrath with a clear conscious. Somewhere in there was an irreverent snicker that Jazz even _had_ a conscious anymore.

~Sure.~ Prowl answered firmly. ~Thought about it a lot the last time you asked. Was afraid, didn't want to face the pain of possibly loosing you.~

He kissed Jazz again. ~I know now that it is going to hurt either way, and wish I had done things different in the past.~ He hesitated. ~Been keeping secrets too, about Soundwave.~

~After we bond, I'll delete that information if you want,~ Jazz offered with a gentle kiss. ~I know how to edit my memories safely.~

~Irrelevant, with him gone.~ Prowl told him, sadness rising again at the reminder. Sadness that was pushed away and replaced with amusement as Prowl focused on something else. ~Edit your memories as well? No wonder you drive Ratchet to distraction.~

~You have no idea,~ Jazz snickered. ~Primary reason I hate going to him is all the illegal software and self-made protocols I run. He clears it out every time. Takes me _orns_ to put my systems to rights after one of his full physicals.~ He relaxed in Prowl's embrace, relaxed in his presence, and slowly began to caress him to arouse.

Amusement as Jazz's supposed suffering quickly faded as Prowl shivered under the skillful touches, mirroring the intent as his fingers slid over silver armor gently.

~Have you thought about bonding?~ Jazz asked even as he gasped with a surge of pleasure.

~Not in detail.~ Prowl admitted, attention turning to teasing one of Jazz's sensor horns. ~I am certainly open to suggestions, or to knowledge I may not have at my disposal.~

Jazz purred and offered up a new fantasy. It was starkly different from all the others, something unique to bonding. A lack of foreplay, of intent to pleasure. It was fantasy, Jazz knew, but to remove the eroticism from the moment made it stand out as something _special_ to the mech whose entire existence, even in breaking and killing, was an expression of sensuality.

Prowl pulled back, considering, and nodded in quiet agreement as he pulled Jazz against him and simply held him. ~Doesn't have to be just a fantasy. It can be a memory instead.~

~Would it still be special for you?~ Jazz focused on what was so very important to him.

~So long as it ends with being bonded to you, yes.~ Prowl answered firmly.

~Then please,~ Jazz whispered in awe that he would be given such a gift.

Prowl simply smiled and reached to disconnect the hardline so spark-to-spark was the only communication they had once the merge began. With the full details of the fantasy in mind, he shifted to lie on his back and drew Jazz on top of him, giving the smaller mech dominance in the moment.

With a low whine of anticipation Jazz shivered and leaned forward to kiss his lover lightly, then lifted himself up and opened his chest plates to offer his spark.

Admiration and matching anticipation from radiated from Prowl, as well as a peaceful sense that this was right as he offered his own spark in return, waiting impatiently for his lover and soon to be bonded to claim.

With an adoring smile Jazz lowered himself, moving slowly to extend the conscious stages of the merge for as long as they could stand it. With the intent to bond forefront in both their processors, memories flowed from one to the other much more quickly than normal.

Jazz's first memory. Powering up in a frame and _wanting_. The smile of the delightful mech he first saw. The purely reflexive desire and knowledge of what to do with it as he pressed close to the larger mech and dipped his fingers into armor gasps. The welcome moans that sounded even sweeter than the pleasure his frame received from the other as he interfaced before even telling anyone his designation.

Pride. Pride and contentment as Prowl finally got to see first hand the results of one of his assignments, complete and functional.

In the grand scheme of things, in the city-state of bustling Praxus, it was a little thing. A redesign of a section of transportation routes that were slowing down from use beyond that of the original designer's plans, now moving smoothly and freely at the height of the orns traffic needs.

The first real confirmation to Prowl that was he was doing made a difference, actually worked. Early in his functioning, when his work was still _good_.

He felt Jazz's pride in him before a memory unfurled from the silver mech.

The now familiar form of Black Echo appeared in the brothel that owned Jazz's contract, only for Jazz he was new. A passing glance, the automatic calculations on what would please the mech, and Jazz moved on. He was on break and after a cube of well-earned energon. His contract had started at nearly three times the norm, but he showed it. His construction was better than average; designed to last many times the normal length. He was athletically pleasing in a way few of his cohorts were. Not too good to work at the mid-rated brothel, but the best of their collection.

It was in his software that he truly excelled, driven by a spark that was creative and adaptive beyond the norm. He was still learning all the skills they wanted him to have at just over six centuries, but he was utterly enamored with sorcelling.

Greetings with mechs long gone, drinking energon and laughing with co-workers until he was called for his next client. Curiosity at having a full decaorn of his time purchased at double his normal commission. Even though he wasn't supposed to know, Jazz's processors boggled at the mech who could lay out that kind of credit and would come _here_.

His owner would be celebrating for a _vorn_ over this one.

Memory blurred, jagged and hazy. Knowledge learned later filled it in.

Black Echo had purchased his time to find out if Jazz was suitable for Ops training.

The smile and happiness that came so naturally to Jazz had never been quite as innocent, quite as pure after that.

True grief and sorrow from Prowl at what Jazz had lost, even if it had led to this point, and an answering memory from Prowl.

'Accident' after 'accident', pain tearing at his spark from the loss of life that he wanted to be prevent, that he knew was being caused by negligence but he could nothing about because no one would listen. He had finally forced his processor to think he didn't care. To route the pain somewhere else.

No one until the he first encountered the leader of the rising rebellion, before the moment had even been termed a rebellion, and those who believed still called it a revolution. A revolution for the working class mech, for all of those who where essentially slaves with no chance to rise or advance beyond their position, who were trapped in injustice and forced to watch it be carried out on others.

Megatron had preached of a new life. Of change. And Prowl had dared to believe in the vision he presented, dared to the point that when the large mech had asked him to join he had walked away from his position and not cared about the _how_ it happened.

~Megatron was sane then,~ Jazz murmured, amazed at the first-hand perspective of a mech who had known Megatron then, had _believed_ in Megatron then.

Unbidden the rising memory from Jazz was of a similar time with a very different situation.

He, Black Echo, Sentinel Prime, Ironhide and other high-ranking mechs from the senate, military and intelligence were gathered around. Jazz's part was clear: he was to watch, listen and be quiet.

In Jazz's memory Prowl watched and realized just how early on Megatron had been identified as a 'problem' and the plans that had been in place to deal with him.

By all rights the miner should never have survived long enough to see Senator Decimus, much less kill him ... and certainly not to escape afterwards. Yet when he did he became the target of the military ... but the 'property' of Intel, of Black Echo. They dedicated resources to understanding Megatron, certain that the mech had a greater purpose that anyone who believed in the government's correctness could admit to.

Black Echo was certain that Megatron was being protected by Primus himself.

Memories went jagged again, but because they were skipping around in time, connected only by the thread of quietly and cautiously supporting Megatron without Megatron ever knowing it.

A 'problem'? Prowl's surprise, at the timing and the way it had been handled, and at how it had spiraled out of hand.

Then a massive jump in time, faint impressions and images of happiness, of time spent with Soundwave and the symbiots to fill in the open space. One clear image- accompanied with much remembered confusion- of the revelation that Soundwave had been a Priest of Primus before he had joined Megatron.

Then the still fresh pain of Iacon, of the part that Prowl had played in its fall. And what Prowl had learned in the aftermath, of the actions of the late Prime and just how Soundwave had come to be where he was.

Jazz stilled briefly, shock ... incredulous shock, then a flare of fury and betrayal before it all settled into a mirthless laugh.

~Seems Black Echo didn't give Sentinel Prime enough credit. Mech was onto him.~

Prowl flinched away, wary of Jazz's reaction, the revelation having gone far worse than he had anticipated as he sought a clearer understanding, suddenly unsure of himself.

~Shu, not you babe,~ Jazz assured him, focusing on his love for the mech with him. ~Sentinel Prime never told us about _his_ infiltration plan. I knew Soundwave had been a High Priest, even that he was the one to call your spark from the Well, but I never even guessed that he was an infiltrator. I _should_ have been told once it was clear that he was courting you, since that was my mission as well.~

~I do not think anyone else knew all of it until he told me.~ Prowl admitted, relaxing once more into the sharing as their sparks wove together, a deep sense of agreement to Jazz's statement coming across, and underneath buried pain of how much Prowl still missed the mech in discussion.

Instant apology, and reminder of how much Prowl loved Jazz.

~Love you, including the part of you that loves him,~ Jazz murmured, no longer hiding that it was hard for him. He didn't really want to share Prowl. He wasn't, deep down, completely okay with it. Okay enough that their bond would be solid. Okay enough that he would do what he could to help Prowl save what was left of his family. Okay enough to have expected Prowl to bond with Soundwave and no longer resent it.

But never completely at peace with the idea that Prowl loved another ... loved a mech that Jazz himself could not see bonding with himself.

There too, however, was the long, emotionally painful path Jazz had taken to accept Soundwave, even if he could never _love_ him. It had come down to a pitifully simple equation that drained all the inner turmoil from the truth of it.

Jazz loved Prowl enough to want him to be completely happy.

Prowl needed Soundwave to be completely happy.

Jazz needed to accept Soundwave as Prowl's bonded.

Flickering in the background were the moments of hurt. The moments of questioning why he wasn't enough. Moments of planning the host's demise to eliminate the competition. There were moments of comprehension, of acceptance, well before that state settled in as the norm.

In the end it was as simple to say as it was complex to do. Jazz loved Prowl enough to accept that Prowl loved two mechs, not one.

Distress radiated from Prowl, spark and frame alike shaking at the idea that he had been, was still, hurting Jazz. The fact that Soundwave had felt the same, had also wondered at something that Prowl couldn't explain, other than the fact that he _needed_ both of them.

Trying to explain anyway in the only way that made sense to Prowl- they both balanced the mech between them. Soundwave was the steady constant in Prowl's existence, and Jazz was the opposite- the part that pushed Prowl to live. Together they made Prowl the mech they both claimed to love.

And Prowl loved them both, without reservation and before without hesitation. But he didn't want to lock someone he loved into relationship they were going to regret later.

Finally he found his voice.

~Love you. Love you so much.~ Prowl whispered. ~Understand if you don't want though. You can still leave. Can still...go. Don't want you unhappy. Couldn't live with that.~

Jazz murmured wordlessly as he lowered his helm to Prowl's and deepened the merge slightly. ~I love you Prowl. Understand that. Love, bonding, never promised to be easy. It promised to be worth the effort. It is. You are. I _want_ this with you. I wanted it even when I knew, without a doubt, that you would bond to a mech I didn't love as well. I want to bond with you Prowl. If you find another that completes you, that you love, I _will_ find the strength to accept them as well.~

With all the emotional turmoil and relief, both willingly sank further down, allowing memories to flow without examining them much. Two lifetimes, Jazz's longer than Prowl had anticipated, were exchanged, stored and incorporated even as spark energy began to weave into a new pattern to bring the two sparks closer in synch and permanently bind them together by exchanging part of their cores.

It was a processes that took conscious desire and coherency to initiate, but then ran its own course as the mechs processors struggled to grasp and cope with the amount of information being uploaded to them.

It ended, unlike an overload, by forcing both mechs to power down. Even Jazz, with his pleasurebot protocols and hardware, experienced a hard reboot.

Each system came online, reports from critical automatic systems stacking with the reports from secondary systems for inspection as both mechs powered up slowly.

Only this time there was a distinct lack of panic on Prowl's end, any fear that he might have potentially felt soothed instantly by the peace in his spark that was permanently Jazz.

That spot felt deeply in awe, something that went with Jazz's expression when Prowl turned his optics on.

~Hey babe,~ Jazz experimentally tried to communicate over their new bond.

~Jazz.~ Prowl answered, planting a gentle kiss on Jazz's helm as endless love and peace flowed across the bond in Prowl's own version of a test.

Jazz shivered at the feeling, a moan torn from his vocalizer as he tried to comprehend the sensation of peace and calmness that was utterly alien to him but so very, very welcome.

~Love you,~ Jazz replied, quivering with awe, adoration and desire for the mech holding him and now inside his spark.

~And I love you.~ Prowl murmured, enjoying the new connection and all of the layers of meaning it allowed beyond simple _words_. Amusement and embarrassment at the continued awe he was picking up from Jazz as he looked away.

Jazz nuzzled him to meet his optics again, placing a light kiss on each before moving to Prowl's mouth. A thought-image of Jazz working Prowl's spike with his mouth while his valve was filled with a toy was sent along with the surge of lust the idea caused, and that Jazz was curious how much of an overload would cross the bond.

Laughter backed by eager amusement on Prowl's end.

This was the Jazz he knew and loved, the Jazz that was now his and a part of his spark, and he didn't even try to contain the _joy_ that knowledge gave him.

~I'm willing love.~

~Good,~ Jazz purred as he slid down his lover's chassis, taking the time to kiss along the seam of Prowl's chest. ~Because we kinda need to know how much a disruption my function will be to yours.~

Prowl hummed in agreement, reaching out to stroke Jazz's helm. ~Point, or at least try and get an idea of how long it will take me to learn to control my reaction.~

~Don't forget to just _tell_ me if something big is going down you need to focus on,~ Jazz admonished him even as he kissed his way to Prowl's spike cover and played his fingers over the valve cover. ~This isn't a one-way deal.~

~I will.~ Prowl promised, meaning it even as he gave way and both covers slid away for his lover- his _bonded_, his spark reminded him- and moaned softly. ~Have to see if it is going to affect you working too.~

~I'm sure it will some, but I have a lot more by way of software and hardware to control it,~ Jazz pointed out, watching with unbridled desire as Prowl's spike pressurized for him. He played the tips of his fingers around Prowl's valve rim, teasing for readiness as well as encouraging it.

~Jazz.~ Prowl whimpered, picking up on Jazz's desire and quivering as it affected him as well, systems heating far quicker than normal.

A soft moan escaped Jazz, enticed and intensely aroused by Prowl's quick response, to the fact that it was to _Jazz_ and not merely a knowing touch or anticipation of pleasure. He drew a false spike from his subspace, moving it carefully under Prowl's gaze to tease the tip of the elaborate object around the soft, flexible rim of Prowl's valve.

"Ready babe?" Jazz purred, his own equipment responding but suppressed for now.

~Yes. Please. Please.~ The teasing, the anticipation, the need had Prowl begging shamelessly. He moaned deeply at the slow, purposeful slide into his slick valve, at the intensity he could _feel_ from his lover. Even being hardlined didn't provide this level of understanding at the silver mech's purity of pleasure at giving it.

"Pleasurebot, babe," Jazz smiled, optics flicking from Prowl's features to the enticing slide of false spike in and out of Prowl's chassis. "Comes with the design."

"Not complaining." Prowl moaned, quivering as he gripped the berth, wings flaring. "Never have."

"Love ya all the more for that," Jazz purred, his adoration for his bonded's tolerance of his nature thick in the emotions flowing between them. Without missing any smoothness in sliding the false spike, Jazz lowered his helm and slowly took Prowl's spike in. Slick heat, suction and a wickedly gifted glossa assaulted the rich density of sensor nodes there.

"Jazz!" Without really thinking about what he was doing Prowl focused on the bond, letting everything he was feeling feed back through it. All of the love he felt for Jazz, all of his appreciation for the faith the mech had for him.

And how sure he was that this was the right thing they had done.

Jazz shivered between his legs, delight at the certainty and adoration of the mech flowing back as Jazz went to _work_, his goal to get his lover off as quickly and hard as he could.

As worked up as Prowl it wasn't long before he crying out and doing everything in his power to be still, the duel pleasure from spike and valve rivaling the pleasure singing across the bond.

A surge of energy and pure pleasure as Prowl arched off the berth, overload rushing through him. ~Jazz!~

The silver mech moaned around the spike in his mouth as he greedily swallowed Prowl's transfluid. The intensity across the wide-open and close-range bond was nearly enough to tumble him over the edge by itself. Only his own desire to experience it all kept him from giving into the desire.

Prowl came down hard, panting furiously in an attempt to cool overheated systems as he fought to remain conscious, moaning in bliss. ~Primus...Jazz.~

~Love ya, Prowl,~ Jazz shivered, moaning himself as he gently slid the false spike from Prowl and his mouth from Prowl's still-tingling spike. ~You can drop off line if you want,~ he purred, more than willing to deal with his own arousal.

~Not until you're ready too.~ Prowl answered, not entirely sure he could finish dropping into recharge with the sight and feel of his clearly aroused lover so close.

Jazz hummed thoughtfully, then took the false spike and slid it inside his own valve with a deep, resonant moan of bliss. ~Then enjoy watching.~

~I always do.~ It was agreement and confession at the same time as Prowl moved enough to take in all of Jazz. ~Will help too, if you want.~

~You're _always_ welcome,~ Jazz moaned, spreading his knees and arching to put on a show as he slid the false spike slowly in and out of his quickly charging valve. ~Love your touch, babe.~

Prowl sat up, optics never leaving the enticing sight of his mate. ~Come here.~ Invitation and a promise of pleasure sang across the bond between them.

Without hesitation Jazz crawled close and offered and image of Prowl holding him from behind, touching his spark casing until he overloaded.

A purr of agreement from Prowl as he claimed a kiss before pulling the silver mech close, back to front, hands teasing at Jazz's chest while Prowl lavished attention on the other mech.

A shudder passed through Jazz's chassis as he opened his chest plates and began to work the false spike once more. He reached back with his free hand to hook over Prowl's shoulder and caress one sensor wing.

~For you.~ Prowl reminded him as a moan of pleasure escaped him and he pushed a sensor wing into the touch as his fingers caressed the offered spark chamber and worshiped the spark it protected. ~Your happiness. Your pleasure.~

~_Us_,~ Jazz countered. ~_Our_ happiness. _Our_ pleasure. Our future.~ Jazz's hips jerked into his hand, driving the false spike deeper as he cried out, right on the verge of a hard overload.

~Ours.~ Prowl agreed, pushing love over the bond as he tipped Jazz's helm up to kiss him, sharing that intimacy as Jazz overloaded with a muted cry, drenching their bond in his pleasure. His spark reached out, pressing the outermost edge of its corona against Prowl's hand, seeking a connection with it's bonded's field.

A second, smaller overload washed over Prowl, catching the Praxian off guard and radiating out through field and bond, driven by his lover's pleasure and his own desire.

~Intense,~ Jazz whispered, leaning back against his lover as they both came down. ~Way intense.~

Prowl nuzzled at him. ~Very much so.~ He settled back, the smaller mech against his chest. ~Content now?~ He asked, even if he could feel the answer to his own question across the bond.

Jazz simply purred in reply and snuggled close as they both began to shut down for recharge. ~Love you, Prowl. I've wanted this for a long time.~

~Love you.~ Prowl murmured as he slipped into recharge, content and at peace.


	33. Medical Override

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 33: Medical Override<p>**

* * *

><p>Ratchet looked around <em>his<em> medical ward, finally content with it, and opened a comm line to check up on one of his current patients. ::Jazz?::

::Yeahsir?:: Came the half-coherent, slightly slurred reply.

::Are you with Prowl?:: The medic asked.

A slightly manic giggle was the first reply. ::Oh yeah, doc-bot,:: Jazz snickered. ::You'll have ta wait ifya want him though.::

Ratchet vented in exasperation, having more of an idea of just what he was interrupting now and deciding he rather didn't care. ::I do want to see him, here if he is able or in your quarters if he is not. Comm when you are ready for company. And I _will_ invite myself in if I do not get a reply soon.::

With the warning Ratchet cut the comm line and started to gather his things for a personal quarters visit. He grumbled to himself the entire way, distantly aware of mechs hastily getting out of his way. Still, he had some idea of just how volatile Jazz was when he felt Prowl was threatened. Smokescreen had no clue how easy he'd got off, and if he was honest, Ratchet wasn't that keen on being on Jazz's bad side any more than he already was.

So he gave them a breem to overload and do whatever cleanup Prowl felt necessary before pinging their door.

The door opened, admitting him to the small entry of the officer's quarters that were officially Prowl's and by default Jazz's as well.

The only open door lead to the berthroom and he walked in, not at all surprised to see that Jazz hadn't cleaned himself up at all. Prowl looked slightly more presentable, but not by much, and the mech was easily the most relaxed Ratchet had even seen him while on line. That included when overcharged out of his logic center.

"Hey Ratch," Jazz chirped cheerfully from his position draped on top of his lover.

"Ratchet." Prowl's own greeting on the heels of his lover, his voice reflecting the state of his frame, completely at ease and in direct contrast to the state of someone who not much more than an orn ago had been panicking at merely waking to find himself recharging alone.

"Prowl." The medic stopped, looking them over and scanning them. He was surprised and pleased with the results he was getting back until one of the results lit up his processor.

Ratchet's entire frame went rigid as he stared at them both in shock, and barely suppressed a growl as he demanded a private comm line from Jazz. ::What in Pit did you do?::

::I said yes,:: he looked at the CMO in utter defiance. ::_After_ I told him all the slag that I really am.::

::Complete honesty or not.:: Ratchet growled. ::He's a mech that was rebounding, if he had even hit that stage yet, and you _knew_ that. Prowl had a panic attack because you weren't right next to him and hardwired when he cycled up last orn. What were you thinking?:: He asked again, quietly, far more fond of the Praxian than he cared to let on.

::That this was a conversation we'd already had,:: Jazz was only giving half-effort in defending himself. ::We'd already discussed bonding. We both wanted it. Timing just made it now.::

"It is truth Ratchet." Prowl interrupted, holding Jazz closer. "It is something I wanted, even when he asked last time and I was the one who said no. This time I asked, and he said yes."

Ratchet vented softly, his attention turning to Prowl. To himself he had to admit that the change in the Praxian was startling, and in a good way. Making mental notations to monitor Prowl very closely for a while he made a shooing motion with one hand.

"Fine. Off of him so I can look him over, and then you are getting a check-up too. There are reasons you aren't supposed to make decisions like this spontaneously, and not all of them are mental."

Jazz gave him a _look_ that was hard to interpret before surrendering his semi-defensive and decidedly possessive position on top of Prowl, though he only moved far enough away on the berth for Ratchet to have access.

"What are the physical reasons?" Prowl asked calmly.

"Mostly pre-existing ones. Weak sparks, spark damages, damage to the spark chamber. Damage to other systems that would result from or be aggrevated by the excess energy generated while bonding. Problems that do not exist in either of you, as far as I know. But you are both still going to humor me and let me look you over." Ratchet explained as he worked. While he didn't show it, he felt a bit of relief when Jazz relaxed.

Any other time he would have whacked them both with a wrench for the constant edging closer and touching hands, but right now he knew that they literally couldn't help it. The drive to remain close and in constant physical contact was spark-driven and would remain all but uncontrollable until the bond had fully stabilized.

"Do you know how long you'll need to remain this close?" Ratchet asked quickly as he plugged into Prowl's medical port and began scanning.

"At least a decaorn," Jazz answered with a shrug.

"That's the military version," Ratchet allowed. "The _medical_ one is what the nobles comply with. A full metacycle."

"I can start doing some work before then." Prowl commented thoughtfully, reaching out around the medic and taking Jazz's hand to keep them both calm. "That might help matter some, and extend our time together without hindering other operations excessively."

"Only what _I_ allow you to work on in your quarters," Ratchet admonished. "But yes, as long as Jazz remains in the same room and you indulge in spark merges whenever your spark wants it, you may do some work." He shifted focus to Jazz. "_You_, however, are under quarters lockdown until I say otherwise."

"No problem. I don't want to go anywhere anyway," Jazz nodded, weaving his fingers with Prowl's.

"I didn't think you would." Ratchet sniped as he finished with Prowl, unplugging from the Praxian and turning his attention to the smaller mech. "Your turn."

"Leave my programming alone this time, will ya?" Jazz asked as he shifted closer and opened his medical port. "I just got everything back where it belongs."

"If you would stop making changes I wouldn't have to delete them." Ratchet countered, moving through Jazz's systems and mostly looking for exactly what he said he was seeking- pre-existing physical damage aggravated by the bonding. He found nothing, as he'd expected. He knew both mechs inside and out medically. He knew they were physically in perfect shape.

But it wasn't really their physical state that had him so concerned. It was the emotional. Soundwave's deactivation, even without the proof of a frame, had crushed Prowl more than even Ratchet had expected it would. Yet they _had_ told the truth; bonding was not a new subject. Jazz had suggested it ... and what a night that was when Prowl had next come over for an evening drink in the privacy and safety of the CMO's quarters. Even then Prowl had said outright that he wanted to, that he _intended_ to, just not quite yet.

He really shouldn't have been, and deep down really wasn't actually, surprised that this had finally driven them to it. He withdrew from Jazz's systems, unplugging and stepping back to allow the two of them together again. They were a good couple, adorable in the way they moved close and physically supported each other. He'd been convinced of that for vorns. But every medical protocol he had was red-flagging the bonding as a Bad Thing.

He squashed it all. They were _good_ together. They'd been together for a quarter of a century (?) already. The timing might be rash but their bonding ... it was nearly perfect.

'Stupid romantic' Ratchet labeled himself.

"So you're not going to file charges?" Jazz asked quietly, content to be in Prowl's arms and pressed close to the chassis of the mech he was dangerously in love with.

"No. Though I am going to be keeping an optic on you two." He sighed. He still wasn't sure that this was a good thing _now_, but attempting to undo it would cause far more damage than it would help. And it did seem to help Prowl.

So long as a couple metacycles from now it didn't end with Prowl in Ratchets' quarters drinking highgrade and regretting asking Jazz to bond with him.

"Thank you," Prowl said softly. "I understand why you are worried, but I know what I am doing. You will not regret supporting us."

"So can we get back to strengthening our bond now?" Jazz quipped, already stroking the seam of Prowl's chest plates and causing the focus of his attention to quiver as his frame responded without conscious thought.

Ratchet x-vented and grumbled his engine. "Yes, and I'll change your status to on leave for bonding. Just don't forget energon and recharge. I'll be by in a few orns to check on you again. And don't you _dare_ call me if you get locked in a compromising position trying something 'creative'," he glowered at Jazz before turning to stalk off. "Crazy younglings."

"Do I want to know?" Prowl asked as he caught Jazz for a kiss, playful and happy.

"Probably not," Jazz snickered and kissed back. "We have the CMO and SIC, and I doubt Prime will object," he purred and snuggled close. "Now all we have to do is build the bond strong enough for Ratchet to let us do our jobs."

Prowl smiled as he lay back, pulling Jazz with him. "I do not think he will either. I think he actually expected it. But since Ratchet is the one we need to satisfy, I think we should get to work. He seems to have very high standards."

The symbiot crept through the ventilation ducks, her entire mission carefully timed to fall during the recharge cycle of the base she was infiltrating. It did not mean no danger, just less danger.

She wasn't supposed to be here at all. They had agreed that no contact until their plans were complete was the only way to keep everyone safe and their plans secure.

But those plans had not included Soundwave being caught in a battle and injured to the point that even Hook wasn't sure if he was going to pull through or not. The host was still recovering, finally out of stasis, much to the relief of all the symbiots who cared for him.

They hadn't even worried about Prowl at first, until it became known through an intel report that the Praxian had been one of the main offensive coordinators for that battle. Concerned, it had been Soundwave who had made the call to break the agreement and send her in to the find the Prowl and check on him.

A little digging and she had finally located the Praxian's quarters - located in the commissioned officers section no less, a fact that was sure to make Soundwave proud - to which she was currently opening the grate for the washroom air duct. She silently slipped out, noting the customization to the room. Jazz's influence, no doubt. The pleasurebot was a kinky one with a taste for being restrained while being used.

Her keen audio sensors picked up the sounds of pleasure from the berthroom beyond the door. Prowl was easily recognized, Jazz not long after.

Slightly amused and not at all surprised she went ahead and let herself in the berthroom, optics taking in the pair on the berth with a soft rumble. Prowl on his hands and knees being spiked from behind with skilled hands seeing to his upward-pressed sensor wings was a delicious sight, even if it should be Soundwave and not Jazz doing it.

Jazz's gaze snapped towards her with the rumble, then turned his attention back to Prowl.

The sound was just enough to catch Prowl's attention as well, his optics flaring in surprise before a particular touch on his wings drew a cry from him and set his entire frame to trembling as he called Jazz's designation. Jazz willingly fell over the edge with him, Prowl's designation clear in the keen of ecstasy that rose from the silver mech's vocalizer before he sank forward, spent and purring in contentment.

"Who else survived?" Jazz asked her blearily.

Prowl sank on to the berth and reached back to take one of Jazz's hands in his own, seeking another anchor as he also turned his attention to the intruder, other hand reaching out in invitation.

"Ravage."

The symbiot came closer, a great deal of her attention focused on Jazz and their joined hands. "Everyone."

"There are two hosts willing to take you in, an Autobot an a Neutral," Jazz murmured, shifting his hips to withdraw from Prowl, but he didn't go far as the couple rearranged themselves to offer Ravage a place on the large berth next to Prowl. "Blaster and Boomer."

"Everyone." Ravage repeated, coming closer but still not joining them on the berth as she looked at Prowl. "I'm the only who is coming. To tell you he survived." She reared up, front paws resting on the berth next to the startled Praxian.

"Soundwave's alive?" Jazz asked for his stunned mate. "He'll recover?"

Ravage nodded, finally daring to climb onto the berth as Prowl went limp, processor working through the admission as the symbiot curled up next to him.

"Hook lifted the stasis yesterday. When the battle intel was delivered and he heard about your part he sent me. He was worried about you." She stated quietly, looking directly at Prowl.

The Praxian started to tremble, part relief that Soundwave lived and his family was not lost as he had feared, and part shame that he had given up on the mech he loved without proof.

"Shu, babe," Jazz murmured, stroking Prowl's nearest sensor wing in comfort. "It'll be okay. He'll be okay." ~He'll forgive us.~

~I know. That still doesn't make giving up on him right.~ Prowl countered as he leaned into the touch, welcoming the comfort and pushing across the bond as strongly as he could that he did not regret what he had done with Jazz for an instant.

At the same time he reached out, rubbing that one particular spot on Ravage's head that always made her purr in delight before.

She still leaned into it, her field humming with pleasure. "It's good to see you doing so well," she murmured. "It's good that you aren't alone."

Prowl vented softly, still thankful for the understanding from her. "The others? How is everyone else?"

There was not an orn that passed that he did not miss them, and as starved as he was for news he couldn't pass up the fact that Ravage was laying there within arms length, a real, solid link to those he loved and missed.

"Everyone is repaired. We miss you," she admitted. "Soundwave the most. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw look for you when they're on patrol, just to see how you look. So do I. We're all glad you're alive and well," she looked at the pair again before focusing on Prowl. "Do you still _want_ Soundwave?"

Prowl flinched at the question, more hurt than if she had struck him. "_Yes_. There isn't an orn that passes that I don't wish this war over for good and things were the way they should be."

"I was ... time and distance make mechs rethink things sometimes," she said softly. "If Jazz was enough for you ... better master hears it now, before he offers his spark to you formally."

Golden optics went dim as the pain from when he had thought Soundwave gone for good rising again in memory, cutting into his spark. "Miss him so much." Optics focused again on Ravage. "Miss you all. When I heard he had fallen..."

"We've missed you as well," she x-vented softly. "Especially in those orns where we weren't sure he'd survive. It's been so hard not to sneak in and talk to you. But ... it's good to see you doing so well. You're _thriving_ here," she smiled weakly at him. "Thriving with Jazz. Master will be happy for that. The plan ... we wish it would go faster, but the new Prime knows. Whether he _believes_ is another matter, but Soundwave has vowed loyalty and bound his spark as a High Priest to Optimus Prime. Master believes in his new Prime. He's a good one."

"He is." Prowl agreed, rubbing her head once more. "We're working towards Shockwave. It is just taking time." Too much time, in Prowl's opinion, even if there was nothing that he could to make it move faster.

"Megatron and Starscream are largely under control ... as much control as either can be under," she nodded. "Shockwave is all but immune to Soundwave's telepathic manipulation. It makes him a very difficult target. Soon you will be of rank to quietly direct much of the Autobot focus on Shockwave. It will be a good orn when his sparkless frame is recovered."

"Unfortunately he's all but immune to me too," Jazz murmured, then considered Ravage. "Has Soundwave told you about me?"

"What he knows." She stretched and leaned more comfortably against Prowl, clearly interested. All information was good information, so long as it was accurate and true. "That you do more than just pleasure and information, that you are most likely responsible for some things that have no other explanation somehow, but specifics are vague."

Jazz chuckled and glanced up at Prowl before relaxing. "Yeah, you could say that. I'm full SpecOps. Third to Black Echo, though not under this designation."

"Na Tien," she nodded, then stared at him. "That's quite a rebuild you require to appear as her."

"It's an effort," he agreed. "A worthy one to protect my Jazz identity."

Ravage purred thoughtfully, head resting on Prowl lap she studied the silver minibot. "Any other designations you use that you would care to share? If we know we will help you."

Jazz considered her, considered the situation and the likely future, then the odds that Soundwave could turn on them, on _him_ before the war was out.

"Quicksilver, Prata Aave, Top Notch, Korrës, Slitherquick," he listed off several of his primaries and a couple secondaries. "And a few he'll have to wait until he and Prowl bond to find out."

The shiver that ran through Prowl at the mention of bonding was not lost on anyone, nor was the way Jazz pressed against Prowl. She lifted her head, optics sad but understanding. "What do you wish me to tell him?"

"The truth." Prowl answered instantly, without hesitation. "That I asked Jazz to bond with me and he did. That in weakness I could not cope with the idea of being alone. That I hope he will forgive me for doubting him."

She looked between them, focused on the way Jazz pressed close and hummed softly. "Do you regret bonding now that you know he lives?"

Jazz's cringe and unconscious seeking of comfort was not lost on anyone either.

"No." The truth clear in Prowl's voice as he reached out and pulled the smaller mech into his arms, field spreading out full of conviction for them both to feel. It was enough for Jazz to relax.

~Regret the timing some, love.~ Prowl told Jazz gently, pushing with the admission that Prowl took the blame for that, for his asking. ~But I will never regret having a piece of you with me always. That I wanted with all of my spark.~

~Good,~ Jazz murmured, relieved and happy.

Ravage simply nodded her acceptance, content with it since Jazz had already indicated he expected Prowl and Soundwave to bond when they could. "I'll leave you to enjoy your bonding time," she said simply as she stood to jump down.

"You can join," Jazz offered as much on reflex as actual thought. She'd spiked him enough times he thought of her as a regular.

Prowl flinched, holding Jazz against him protectively and just kept himself from saying something he would probably regret later, memories of other times when the symbiots had spent time with Jazz rising quickly.

"Or rest and refuel before you go, if nothing else." Prowl offered, hoping she would not hurt Jazz despite the offer. "No one will invade here without permission, except perhaps Ratchet, and we have energon to share."

With a deep rumble of desire Ravage looked at Jazz, who looked about ready to retract his offer, she shifted her attention to Prowl. "The energon and recharge sounds good."

Relieved, Prowl nodded in agreement, kissing Jazz gently before rising from the berth to retrieve the promised energon.

"How restricting to your function is he?" Ravage asked quietly as Prowl walked into the entry room.

"Sorry about that," Jazz winced. "Just to keep the masochism contracts _really_ light. Otherwise he's good with it."

"So concern for your well-being more than an actual refusal to share." She murmured thoughtfully, having been curious on how the two of them were going to work around the functioning of a pleasurebot.

"Oh, he has _no_ problem sharing," Jazz chuckled. "He rather enjoys watching, because _I_ enjoy performing my function. I'm the one who has trouble sharing him," he admitted quietly. "Though I think I'm glad Soundwave's still functioning. I accepted that bond happening vorns ago and Soundwave's not a bad mech to be with even if I don't love him. No such guarantees I'd get along with the next one to fill that need as well."

"Need?" Ravage repeated, optics still locked on the door waiting for Prowl to return, her tone curious. She took the opportunity to sprawl out on the berth, rumbling in appreciation of the deep padding.

"Soundwave gives him something he needs in a relationship. Something I can't provide," Jazz said quietly, cutting off as Prowl entered the room again.

Prowl offered Ravage a cube first before handing one to Jazz and settling on the berth with his own. "I believe Ratchet made threats about turning us into various appliances if we did not refuel on a regular basis. Now seems as good of a time as any."

"Agreed," Jazz lifted his cube in a toast as he leaned against Prowl with a contented sigh. "To good news and renewed hope."

"To both." Prowl agreed, wrapping his free arm around Jazz and watching Ravage consume the energon affectionately, spark very much at peace in the moment.


	34. Drinking Confessions

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave, Prowl/Ratchet  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Sticky, Dub-Con  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p><p>

* * *

><strong><p>At All Costs 34: Drinking Confessions<p>**

* * *

><p>Ratchet scanned his entry room, checking one last time that everything was ready for his regular guest. Quality high grade, plush chair for the Praxian, soothing music playing softly in the background were all in order. Normally it wasn't nearly this big a deal, but given it was Prowl's first attempt to be away from Jazz when the pleasurebot performed his function, it was a critical one for the new and very strong bond.<p>

The pair had been almost frightening compliant with his instructions, always fueled and with a reasonable amount of recharge given the circumstances. He still would have preferred a longer bonding leave, hence the invitation to Prowl for the orn.

The polite ping at his door announced the arrival of his guest.

Ratchet sent the command to open as he walked over to greet Prowl, hopeful that the evening would go well. He looked up and down his guest, his medical scanners active by default.

"Good. Fueled, rested and you finally have your finish in order," Ratchet nodded as he stepped back and let Prowl in. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Prowl nodded in greeting as he stepped in, door closing behind him, and relaxed. "We believe so. And best to find out now, when things are quiet, than later when my full attention may need to be focused on something else."

"That we agree on," Ratchet guided Prowl to the sitting area and offered him a cube of better-than-normal high grade when he was comfortable. "Some of Sideswipe's special brew. Smooth but very strong."

"So drink it slowly and enjoy it." Prowl commented, amused and reading between the lines easily as he settled in a chair and accepted the cube. Not that Ratchet hadn't seen and dealt with him completely overcharged before, but that was not the point of this visit. There was no point in wasting top-notch high grade on gumming up his processors.

"So, you've recovered _much_ faster than I thought possible," Ratchet prodded gently, just to see what Prowl was willing to say.

"Recovered?" Prowl repeated, looking for a little more clarification as he took a sip of the high grade and sighed in appreciation. As troublesome as Sideswipe could be at times, there were few who could match him when actually choose to turn that processor of his to something productive.

And, though few seemed to realize it, the silver Bladebrother was just as much of a perfectionist as his golden twin. The evidence was in Prowl's hand and currently warming his systems pleasantly.

"Oh, from that thing that made you curl up in a processor lock and panic when you cycled up without Jazz hardlined in your systems," Ratchet gave him a hard look before taking a long, slow drink from his cube, savoring the sweet, smooth slide of the fine brew down his intake.

Prowl shuddered at the mere memory and stopped himself from doing his host and the high grade the disservice of chugging it all at once. Instead his free hand rose to rest over his spark, the act unconscious on his part. "The bond helps a great deal, and Jazz stopped me from doing anything that could not be undone."

"It was over Soundwave," Ratchet was fairly sure, but wanted confirmation. "Over being the one to arrange his destruction."

"Yes. There was a short time when I was quite ready to not cycle up again from recharging." Prowl admitted, trusting Ratchet to not overreact to the confession as he took another sip of the high grade to settle himself. "The idea that he was permanently deactivated was more than I was able to face, even with his promise."

"His promise?" Ratchet forcibly shut down the screaming medical protocols about the suicidal state being admitted to.

"That Primus would not part us permanently and that we would be together again, here or in the Well of Sparks." Prowl looked at Ratchet. "I never really left him."

"I gathered as much," Ratchet nodded, his voice understanding even though the statement chilled him. "Why defect then? Why the act?"

Prowl thought about it, shifting his cube of high grade and watching the energon move as he worked out how to explain it to someone who had not been in the middle of it. "Iacon was the breaking point, though it had been building before then. We decided I could do more to end the madness here as an Autobot than as a Decepticon. I was also not as safe from Megatron's wrath when something went 'wrong'. I needed out, and he needed to stay. It was the only way to make it convincing on all sides."

"Just how much as Jazz been keeping you together before this?" Ratchet asked quietly. "It hurts like the pit to be separated from someone so important to you, even worse like this when you have to lie to almost everyone."

"A great deal. Jazz was in on most of it from the beginning. And it is easier since there is a purpose to what I am doing." He offered Ratchet a small smile. "Having someone to talk to where I do not have to act like I despise him constantly has helped too."

Ratchet hummed and sipped his energon, his processors going furiously. "Does Prime know? About you and Soundwave and ... what _is_ Soundwave doing over there?"

"At the moment? Waiting, planning, and trying to keep Megatron and Starscream under control. Prime knows about Soundwave, or so I have been told. How much he knows about the plan I do not know, though I was planning to speak to him soon, if I could see him." Prowl sighed. He did need to find out what Optimus knew and fill in any gaps, with the way that things were progressing.

A low huff said exactly what Ratchet thought of the level of control of those two mechs. "Okay ... what's keeping those two nut-jobs functioning if Soundwave is on our side?"

"Shockwave." Prowl answered, tone taking on a stressed note. "He has to be eliminated before Megatron and Starscream. Then Megatron can be neutralized, hopefully without everything falling apart."

The medic huffed but shuddered in understanding. "That one-optic menace is the bane of every real medic's existence. Only Knock Out is worse for us, but that's a professional thing. Shockwave's just a messed up scientist. Can you tell what Jazz is up to without _feeling_ it?" He went for a new, less disturbing subject for them both.

"A scientist with a plan and an agenda of his own, from what little we can find out." Prowl agreed, then looked curiously at Ratchet as he considered the question and not following the apparent subject jump. "I can try. Is that important?"

"Not really," Ratchet shrugged. "Just helpful in assessing how well you're both blocking the pleasure."

Prowl hummed thoughtfully, setting his high grade down on a convenient table as he focused on the bond between him and Jazz, reaching out across it in an attempt to find out what Jazz was doing. Pleasure slammed into him, even muted by Jazz. The stretch of a thick spike filling his valve, the intense, so very Jazz-like pleasure of another thick spike down his intake. Hands, large and strong, digging into his hips while others stroked his sensor horns as they held his helm in place

Prowl's entire frame jerked in response, a needy whine coming from his vocalizer as he twitched in his seat, his own frame demanding to feel what Jazz was feeling, even if his lover was half way across the base and occupied at the moment.

He grabbed the arms of the chair, the small part of his processor that was still concerned with such matters mortified by reacting this way in front of Ratchet, even while the rest of him decided it didn't care so long as something was done about the desire and the pleasure coming across the bond.

"Prowl?" Ratchet's voice reached his foggy processors shortly before the older, larger mech reached out to place a firm hand on Prowl's shoulder. "Come back to me, friend."

"Please." A pleading whimper as the Praxians valve cover snapped open, frame leaning into the touch on his shoulder. It wasn't Jazz, but it was someone he trusted, and after opening the bond so wide he couldn't _stop_ feeling what Jazz was feeling. It was driving him crazy.

Ratchet hesitated, but all his sensors were telling him the same thing; it would be cruel to refuse. The flare and heat of Prowl's field dragged a groan from the medic and primed all his interface systems.

"I'm sorry," Ratchet murmured as he drew Prowl to stand with him, then guided them to the floor with Prowl on top of him. His spike was already extended and fully pressurized, eager for the valve so close to it. "Take what you need."

The Praxian needed no further prompting, sliding back on the spike with a keen of pleasure as sensor wings flared impressively above him as he moved, motion matching the pleasure flowing across the bond. It was a hard pace, almost punishing, but oh so blissful to feel Jazz's ecstasy while he mirrored the minibot's experiences.

A deep, rumbling moan vibrated up from Ratchet as the mech captured every nuance of the display above him into a high-rez memory file. It was rare to have such a _delicate_ mech interface with him, no matter the circumstances.

"Beautiful," Ratchet murmured as he reached up to caress Prowl's frame, eventually reaching his spike cover. With a light caress he offered to pleasure that too.

The offer was accepted in an instant, spike pressurizing into Ratchet's skilled fingers as Prowl sank farther into the pleasure now originating from his own frame and joining the sensations flowing across the bond. Without thinking his hands started moving over the medic's frame beneath him, seeking to take Ratchet with him.

Ratchet's ventilations picked up quickly as much from what he was seeing as what he was feeling. He'd seen Prowl in nearly every state, from furious to delusionally overcharged to broken to content and happy, but he'd never see him _beautiful_ before. Riding a spike with such absolute need in his field and features was enticing in its rarity for the older mech and Ratchet found it impossible not to be willingly swept up in it.

The Praxian's hands moved with greater intent, seeking to drive the other mech to action. "Please." Prowl pleaded as he tried to match the level of feeling he was getting over the bond.

It took Ratchet a moment to grasp what he was being asked for. With a growl he rolled them over, careful of Prowl's long, delicate sensor wings, and pinned the smaller mech before he began to thrust hard and deep, mimicking what he was sure Jazz was receiving. The effect was immediate, Prowl crying out in pleasure as his hips rose to meet each thrust, holding on to Ratchet as his field flared in reaction, pushing into the other mech to share the pleasure.

"Yes. Yes. Please, yes," Prowl chanted as Ratchet focused on holding himself back as he ground and drove into the lighter-built mech below him.

"So beautiful," Ratchet rumbled and leaned down to claim Prowl's mouth, thrusting his glossa between parted lip plates to ravage the orifice beyond.

Prowl moaned, acknowledging the compliment as he welcomed the attention, so perfect in the moment. The floor scraped his sensor wings lightly when each thrust rocked his frame. The roll of Ratchet's hips ensuring every single sensor in his valve lit up with each powerful thrust. It was exquisite. It was as close to Soundwave's dominance as Prowl had felt in over ten vorns and Prowl welcomed it, all of it

His hands moved over Ratchets frame, paying extra attention to the medic's chest when that earned a positive responds before moving on. Chest to shoulders, moving down to the medics arms teasing every joint ad sensor he could reach before finding Ratchets hands.

The moment Prowl's fingers rubbed over the strong white hands Ratchet's head was thrown back with a keen and shudder of intense ecstasy. The thrusts and roll of Ratchet's hips became more desperate, his overload reaching nearly undeniable levels when Jazz's overload slammed into Prowl.

The shared feeling set off a cascade, Prowl pushed over the edge by Jazz's overload and the Praxian's overload flaring into Ratchet, finishing the medic's control. With a roar Ratchet overloaded, filling Prowl's crackling valve with highly conductive transfluid.

Prowl keened, almost falling offline between his own overload and Jazz's. He did fall back to the floor, entire frame going limp as aftershocks sparked over plating and his systems worked furiously to disperse energy and heat build up.

Slowly his processor took over again, thinking functioning returning and physical contentment giving way to embarrassment.

"It's okay, Prowl," Ratchet's voice was far more gentle than usual as he withdrew from Prowl's body, allowing the small pool of fluids held there to spill out onto the floor. "It'll be okay," he repeated as he helped Prowl to his pedes. "Let's get cleaned up ... assuming you can mute the bond now?"

Prowl nodded, part of his processor already devoted to writing coding to deal with the response. What he was working on wouldn't stop him from knowing what was going on, but it would mute how much he would actually feel and his response to it when Jazz was not physically present.

"Sorry. Yes- it's dealt with." Wings were hugged close, outward expression of shame and embarrassment that still plagued him despite Ratchet's reassurance.

"You wrote your own protocols again, didn't you?" Ratchet glowered at him, though it was hard to be very angry with what had happened and Prowl's manner.

Prowl's flinch was a good of an admission of guilt as any. The reaction had been automatic for him, a reflex against something that his processor insisted needed to be dealt with _now_.

"You can look them over, if you want." He offered in an attempt to pacify the larger mech.

"You bet I will," Ratchet said gruffly, then softened as he guided Prowl towards his washrack. "Com on. You'll feel better when you're clean."

A soft vent of agreement escaped Prowl as went along with the suggestion, thoroughly ashamed of himself but so thankful that what had happened had been in the presence of someone he trusted.


	35. Pain to be Free

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Jazz/Black Echo  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, off screen S&M,  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p>At All Costs 35: Pain to be Free<p>

* * *

><p>Prowl vented softly, pulling Jazz closer to him as he reached along the bond, looking without speaking for the moment. There had been changes in the mech in his arms recently, changes that bothered the Praxian because he could find no reason for them.<p>

The normally cheerful minibot had gone quiet, aggressive in his own way, and practically twitching constantly. He would settle sometimes, after a good round of interfacing, but it never seemed to help for long, and the time it did help was growing shorter.

Finally Prowl gave up. "What is bothering you?"

"You aren't going to like it," Jazz countered, actually trying to avoid saying it. Nearly two centuries bonded and they had both settled in their new functions and with each other, but the few concessions that Prowl had asked for, that Jazz had welcomed, had come back to haunt the minibot.

"I do not like that it is causing you this level of distress." Prowl countered in turn, nuzzling gently at Jazz's helm, soothing and comforting as he reached out across the bond so that emotion flowed with the words.

~You can tell me, love.~ Adoration, love, and a reminder of the complete acceptance Prowl felt for his bonded.

Jazz lowered his helm, resting it over the spark he was so devoted to, that he loved enough to share.

~The pain, the beating ... I _need_ it,~ Jazz barely dared to do more than whisper. ~I need the absolution it brings.~

A long sigh from Prowl as he listened to more than the words. ~Absolution from what love?~

~What I do ... I wasn't sparked an Op, a killer, a breaker of mechs,~ Jazz shuddered. ~I'm good at it thanks to Black Echo, but I'm not like him. My spark, my core coding, I can't do those things and not pay for it. I _need_ to pay for it.~

~Balance.~ Prowl said, understanding far more than many would. He ran a hand over Jazz's armor gently, studying his bonded. ~And your solution is?~

He was sure he knew what Jazz was asking, but he wanted to hear it from the mech. Wanted it laid out for him, even though he would never deny Jazz anything his bonded truly needed or even simply wanted.

~Black Echo,~ he murmured with full knowledge of what Prowl thought of the mech. ~Know ya don't like him, don't trust him, but I do. He _knows_ me, maybe better than you do in some ways. I never really grasped how much of those nights were for me, there to help me, until I didn't have him for a while. He's not my lover, but he gives me what I need. He takes care of me, takes care of his subordinate.~

Prowl weighed everything carefully, but in the end he knew what he was had to do, what he was going to do. Jazz was more important to him than any personal feelings he might have, his bonded's needs came before his own. And when Prowl could not fill those needs he was not going to ask Jazz to suffer for his shortcomings.

~Not your shortcomings, love,~ Jazz interrupted his thoughts with the fierce statement. ~No more than your love of Soundwave is _my_ shortcoming.~

~Set a time love. Go see him.~ It hurt, even just the words, but Jazz's pain hurt more. ~And when he is done I will come get you.~

Jazz hesitated, uncertain he was prepared to have Prowl see just what state this left him in. He nodded slowly. ~Come with Ratchet. It won't be safe to move me yourself.~

~I will speak with him. You will need his care anyway.~ And Prowl would need someone to keep him from going and murdering the SIC, no matter how much his bonded apparently needed what was done to him. ~Just give me some warning once you have spoken to him. And come back to me.~

The same words whenever Jazz left him to do anything risky any more, a ritual by now that brought them both comfort.

~You'll have warning love,~ Jazz murmured, pressing into Prowl's frame. ~I don't want you alone ... just in case something leaks through the block.~ He squirmed up to claim Prowl's mouth tenderly. ~I will come back, love. I will always come back.~

~Thank you.~ Gentle hands wandered over Jazz frame, confirming every inch of the frame that the Praxian already knew intimately as Prowl kissed him.

Soft affection and gentle desire, the kind that always existed within Jazz, wrapped around Prowl's spark as the kiss deepened. A flicker of a thought, not even words, suggested merging. Not simply to confirm and strengthen their bond, but to be sure within each other that this was the right choice for them both and comfort the pain this need caused.

Prowl rolled to his back, taking Jazz with him so the smaller mech was laying across his chest, the Praxian's chest plates already parting in agreement and offering, spark craving the closeness of its mate and the comfort the other spark brought.

* * *

><p>It seemed more orns than not Optimus wished for his relatively simple functioning as Orion the dockworker, or even Orion the Autobot warrior. Even though the memories before the Matrix claimed him were fuzzy at best, they maintained an overall content, happy feeling. This orn, however, he was immensely grateful that he was here to help support a mech who he was proud to call a friend and officer.<p>

He was grateful that _he_ was here, and not his predecessor. Sentinel was a guardian and honorable Prime, but a bitter, jaded one by the end of his time. He wasn't a mech that one turned to for support when the love of your existence, your very bonded, had needs you could not fulfill.

That led him to Ratchet's door early in the evening with the full knowledge that it would be a very late and very uneasy night with the two mechs.

Ratchet had warned him that the normally controlled and composed CTO and TIC that Optimus was used to occasionally took a back seat where Jazz was concerned. The medic had asked him to come before Prowl was supposed to arrive, and the door to Ratchet's quarters opened the moment he arrived, inviting him in.

Optimus stepped in far enough for the door to close and took in the familiar entry room, noting the furniture for the evening included chairs for a Praxian and the extra-large one Optimus' own large convoy-class frame.

"Ratchet," he inclined his helm to the other mech present.

"Optimus." Ratchet waved him farther in. "There is highgrade if you want some before Prowl arrives. He should be here within the joor."

The medic hoped tonight would go better than he was expecting. Hoped they could keep Prowl distracted from his worries and thoughts until the comm came to come retrieve Jazz. And hoped that Black Echo had the sense of self-preservation to be far away when they got Jazz back.

Prowl had only ever seen Jazz after Ratchet had completed his repairs and released Jazz back into his bonded's care, never fresh from a round with the SpecOps commander.

Optimus smiled at sat down, accepting the cube and settling in. "So what is the plan for tonight? Unlike you, I have doubts that Prowl becomes docile when heavily overcharged."

"Normally he does." Ratchet sighed. "Normally when he needs to talk he comes by, talks until he is too overcharged to continue having a real conversation- a state he actually knows when he has reached, surprisingly- comms Jazz, and Jazz whisks him off to deal with him. I've never tried it in this type of setting, and honestly I don't want to. He looses a lot of his self control when he is overcharged, and that could just as easily swing the other way."

He indicated another set of energon cubes. "Those are for when he gets here. Unless he drinks _all_ of those that grade won't do more than put a very mild charge on his systems.

Optimus hummed his understanding. "Do you know how long will we need to distract him?"

A real wince crossed Ratchet's features. "Probably until dawn, maybe longer. Even when it was a regular occurrence they took _joors_. This time ... it could well be more than a full orn. Though to be honest, I intend to sedate him if it looks to be going that long."

They both paused as Prowl pinged the door and it opened for him. It was half a surprise when Jazz was right there, making sure he sat down, had a cube in hand and a long tender kiss before the silver mech retreated out the door to his own evening.

The quick, pleading look cast Ratchet's way by Jazz on his way out the door was not missed by the medic, who turned his attention on his second guest before the door was completely closed.

"Prowl."

"Ratchet." The Praxian answer was immediate, coherent, and for the moment normal. "Prime." Prowl moved on, nodding his helm respectfully. Golden optics were clear, the only visible distress in the Praxian was in the set of his sensor wings, held tense and too close to his frame for what was supposed to be a pleasant evening among friends.

A cube of mid-grade was passed to Prowl, who inspected it carefully before taking a sip and setting aside the cube of highgrade that Jazz had handed him before he left.

"None of us want you overcharged tonight," Ratchet said firmly, then made himself relax and extended his field to brush against Prowl's. "You're among friends, Prowl. Friends who _know_ what's really going on with you, Jazz, Soundwave and the rest."

"I...thank you." Prowl vented softly, sincerity answering in his own field as looked at his friends. "I will need to remember that, as the evening goes on."

Venting again, Prowl visibly forced himself to relax, seeking and finding a center of calm developed over vorns of practice.

"What would you like to do, to remain distracted?" Optimus asked gently as he sipped on his own high-grade cube.

"Talking is fine for now." Prowl murmured, his attention drifting to Ratchet. "How are things between you and Wheeljack working out?"

The CMO huffed. "When he's not damaging himself, they're good," he admitted. "Maybe a little better than good. It's not what you and Jazz have, though. Or even Optimus and Ultra Magnus for that matter."

"Anyone else involved?" Prowl asked, slightly amused at the qualification Ratchet had used, somewhat familiar with the engineer/inventors unintentional self-mutilation tendencies. He was glad that Ratchet had someone to distract him from his own stresses.

"Maybe," Ratchet muttered to Optimus' low chuckle. "He hasn't decided about me yet. But I doubt he'll be content with only Wheeljack for long."

"Oh?" Prowl prodded gently, relaxing more as the conversation piqued his interest, poking at Ratchet something that usually distracted him rather effectively. The medic had been a good friend to him since he had joined the Autobots, something that Prowl would never forget.

"Skyfire's Seeker kin, heavy on the Seeker," Ratchet explained. "He may not _need_ the trine like they do, but the desire for it's still there."

Prowl hummed thoughtfully, considering. He had not had a lot to do with the Seeker kin personally, though most of what he heard had the giant mech pinned as a good one- intelligent, even keeled and steady. A good match for Wheeljack and not such a bad thing for Ratchet.

"How serious is he about Wheeljack?"

Ratchet rippled his armor in a shrug. "Fairly serious. They've been together longer than Wheeljack and I have."

Prowl's wings twitched gently in amusement. "He'll come around."

"Most likely," Ratchet agreed. "It's been longer than most trine courtships, and Skyfire's big enough to actually _survive_ in that disaster zone Wheeljack refers to as a workshop. The question is what was _I_ thinking getting involved with that nut-case."

"I do not know, but given my situation I would not be a good one to ask." Prowl pointed out, very familiar with the fact that love didn't always make sense, nor did the desires of the spark.

"Oh, I don't know," Ratchet smiled at him. "Seems you're the perfect one to ask, given you've got the same WTF situation to most optics, but I _know_ how good you've got it. Jazz doesn't just love you, he utterly adores you."

Another flutter of sensor wings, this time of embarrassment. "A fact of which I am very thankful, even if I don't understand why." Prowl confessed, taking another drink of the energon.

"Likely the same reaction Jazz has towards your feelings for him," Prime rumbled softly. "I can see how much you adore him and how amazed he it at it."

Prowl shrugged, still not completely understanding what made him attractive to Jazz, other than his simple acceptance of the mech as he was. Acceptance that made perfect sense to Prowl, given that Prowl loved Jazz as he was and valued everything that Jazz gave him.

"My tactical computer now redirects things that cannot be explained by logic, so I still have no explanation for them. My feelings for Jazz and Soundwave both fall under things that it now ignores." He looked at Ratchet. "There is at least some logic behind your position."

"There is?" Ratchet cycled his optics.

"You said yourself Skyfire is Seeker kin. If he desires a trine and cares for Wheeljack he would at least take Wheeljack's feelings into consideration. If Wheeljack cares for you it is only logical for Skyfire to seriously consider you as the third he is seeking." Prowl explained simply, looking from the medic to the Prime as he tried to understand why the conclusion would be surprising.

"Your battle computer has no issues assessing emotional connections for others," Prime chuckled. "Though as is my experience, it is always easier to understand a relationship you are not part of. I find yours with Jazz quite understandable."

That admission was enough to leave Prowl staring in surprise. "If you understand it, you may be the first. I was constantly informed before I bonded with Jazz, and still am on occasion, that my affections for a pleasurebot defy explanation."

"Most mechs find it difficult to grasp not wishing some level of exclusiveness with a committed partner," Optimus smiled. "However you were brought into what was normal by a pleasurebot and a High Priest. Two functions that simply do not work that way. More so, few mechs grasp just how far Jazz has come from his original programming. It is common knowledge that pleasurebots cannot love, just as they cannot hate. Such emotions are generally detrimental to their function, not unlike how empathy is limited and loyalty exaggerated in sparked warriors. To all but the few who truly know Jazz, he could not love you, so you are a fool to love him.

"I know better. You balance each other in many ways. Jazz pushes you to exist beyond your function, beyond your base programming. You provide a stability and calmness to him that he has long craved, even before he understood what it was he was seeking. Together you are each far stronger than you ever were on your own. It has been a pleasure to watch."

Prowl's optics went dark as he considered this. Whether it was his background or some intentional working of Primus, he had all the 'exclusiveness' he required. Jazz's spark was his in bond, a level allowed no other mech, and Prowl held the minibot's promise to always return, oath given with nothing of the same originally expected in return.

From Soundwave he had the promise they would be together again eventually. Promise that had tempted him for just a moment to leave this active functioning when his spark had been convinced there was no reason to remain. A path that Prowl had been rescued from vorns ago.

"Thank you." He murmured, optics coming back online before either of the mechs with him began to worry.

Prowl hummed thoughtfully as he listened to Ratchet and Optimus venture off onto another tangent. At least from the initial comments it wasn't one that Prowl would have a lot of input to add, the kind he tended to watch and snicker at as the two sniped until they realized they were making no progress on the subject and just gave it up.

The change gave the Praxian a moment to contemplate his empty cube of mild grade and decide if he wanted to rise and retrieve another one. Contemplation that was abruptly interrupted as pain flared in his spark.

The cry confusion and surprise interrupted the conversation, but Prowl hardly noticed as he clutched at his chest plates. Pain, agonizing sensation that was not his but he still felt rippled across his entire frame accompanied by a sense of Jazz.

Pain that took a second place to panic as that same sense- the feeling of Jazz's spark connection to his own- weakened and flickered. Prowl was on his feet and moving blindly in an instant, his bonded's name the only immediate clue to his companions as to a cause for his actions.

Large, strong hands grabbed his shoulders, stopped him from making it to the door. Prime's _command_ voice reached his audios, and even though the words did not register his frame complied and stilled, at least to an extent.

~Jazz is safe,~ Ratchet's presence was suddenly in his processors, forcing the younger mech to processes the words. ~Keepsafe is with him.~

~Felt him leaving.~ Prowl protested, panic forced down just enough to finally process Ratchets presence, his frame still quivering and on the verge of bolting in search of his lover as soon as he was released.

~Jazz is weakening, not leaving,~ Ratchet insisted, tying Prowl into his data-comm line with Keepsafe. ~She's with him. It is almost over.~

Distress radiated from Prowl, but the edge of desperation faded as he listened. To Prowl there was little difference at the moment- a weakened Jazz was one that might leave him, but he grabbed on to any source of comfort he could find.

Ratchet's steady voice, the secondary feed of the other medic, the strong grip that Prowl now recognized as Prime holding him in place finally started to set his processor to right and he stopped struggling.

~She'll be calling me to come within the breem,~ Ratchet said with the certainty of long experience. ~I still don't think you should be there. Jazz won't know one way or another.~

~I promised him I would come get him.~ Prowl countered, deeply shaken by what he had felt and not all mollified by the faint feeling of Jazz's acceptance - _welcoming_ - of what had happened that had filtered through at the end. ~I told him I would come for him when _he_ was done.~

~If you freak, I'm going to sedate you,~ Ratchet promised even as he unplugged from the Praxian. "Understood?"

Prowl nodded, finding his balance as Optimus let him go, even if every inch of him still spoke of how shaken and upset he was.

"Is Jazz still conscious?" Optimus asked gently, trying to keep Prowl focused until the call came in. He didn't dare allow the mech near his SIC at the moment. Prowl would try to rip Black Echo apart. No matter how that one ended it would be bad.

Prowl went searching for the bond, another shudder rippling through his frame. "Yes. Just." The Praxian's entire frame was shaking again, concern for his mate top priority in his processor with little thought besides getting to him as soon as he was allowed.

The shaking ended as Prowl froze. "No."

"One klik," Ratchet said, reaching out to make sure Prowl didn't bolt at the delay. "A top medic is with him," he reminded Prowl firmly. "He's not without aid."

Prowl stayed obediently in place, though it was a near thing. As reassuring as Ratchet was trying to be, Prowl processor was pointing out that it was a bad thing that Jazz was in such poor shape that he already required the continued attention of a top medic.

"Jazz will feel much better after he's repaired," Optimus said gently but firmly. "You must know this, from his memories."

Truth or not, Prime or not, the answer was an aggressive rumble of Prowl's engines, the stress starting to wear on Prowl in a different way.

Yes, Jazz was be in a better frame of mind once he was repaired, without any of the negative swings from when Jazz returned from a mission or a breaking. But it was still _his_ mate that was suffering.

"We can go now," Ratchet kept a firm hand on Prowl's shoulder to keep him to a walking pace. "SpecOps' interrogation room three."

There was no fight from the Praxian, enough of his processor functioning to realize that between Ratchet next to him and the Prime flanking him the only way he was going to get to see his bonded was to obey the directions he was given.

There was some concession on the other mechs part, not forcing him into trying to be sedate or calm about it and only pausing for a moment outside the interrogation room.

Prowl drew a steadying vent of atmosphere in and tried to prepare himself for what he was about to see.

It was pointless.

Actually _seeing_ the state Jazz was in was too much. Armor had been torn violently off where he hadn't been shredded. Protoform mass was bleeding from thousands of slices, bit and claw marks. Interface equipment had been systematically brutalized until it was nothing but a source of flowing energon.

Only his face had been spared, mostly. His visor was gone, shattered pieces of it still imbedded in Jazz's face plates. Sensor horns were gone ... no, they were imbedded in his protoform in multiple parts. But he still looked like Jazz at least.

Just a Jazz that had been systematically tortured and destroyed to within an inch of his life.

A keening cry rose from Prowl, the only thing keeping him from flying apart was the small part of his spark, clear now that the Praxian had completely dropped the block between them, that Jazz was still functioning.

He lunged forward, wanting to touch, to feel, to reconcile the fact that what he was seeing was his mate. Anger, rage, anything that me might have felt towards the one, ones, responsible, was secondary to his concern.

Both medics allowed him. They focused on the work of keeping Jazz alive long enough to be repaired.

"He tried so hard to shield you from this need he has," Optimus said gentle as he put a hand on Prowl's shoulder. "It is a sign of how much he trusts you that you're permitted into this part of his existence."

Prowl didn't look at him, all of his attention focused on the mech loved. It hurt. It cut him deeply. But as much as he hated it, this was Jazz, part of Jazz, and all Prowl wanted in the moment was his mate whole and in his arms.

If it was anyone but Ratchet on the peripheral of his sensors, anyone besides the steady sense of his Prime at his back he would have broken by now. As it was he waited and prayed to Primus.

It was startling when Jazz began to move, but it was only the two medics transferring him to a hover-stretcher to move him to the medbay.

"You can't be in the surgery," Ratchet said firmly. "I can put you in stasis if you need it."

Prowl looked to his Prime first, seeking permission, assurance that it was all right if he accepted what Ratchet offered. With the nod of understanding attention turned to the medic instead.

"You'll wake me when he out?"

"I'll wake you before I let this one even think about booting up," Ratchet promised. "You'll be the first thing he senses."

"Please." Prowl said, finally stepping back so they could get Jazz out of there and under proper care.

* * *

><p>Prowl's systems came online slowly, medical overrides flashing in his vision and forcing him to online in the proper order and under the proper timing sequence. Overrides put into place when he had gone under voluntary medical stasis to keep him from crashing because Jazz-<p>

Because Jazz was in surgery, being repaired from being tortured almost to the point of offlining. For a moment he tried to fight it, tried to come online faster than the overrides were allowing before giving in, optics finally coming online to find Ratchet standing over him.

"He's fine, which your spark knows," the CMO pointed out gruffly. "Now _listen_ to it."

Prowl stopped, listening to the order and finding the light in his own spark that was Jazz, strong and even. Some tension drained from his frame as he relaxed back on the berth, his spark still at odds with the mental images of the last time he had seen his bondmate.

"This is what he was protecting you from," Ratchet said as he signaled Prowl to get up and follow him. "When this blasted war is over he won't need it anymore, he won't have to exist with such warped programming, but for now Black Echo at least takes care of the monsters he creates."

"At least I know now." There was bitterness in Prowl's voice as he followed Ratchet.

The CMO x-vented softly and privately sent a small prayer to Primus that Jazz could perform another miracle and set the tactician's processor right. Neither spoke as Ratchet led Prowl to a small private recovery room where Jazz was laying peacefully, fully repaired and in a simple medical stasis lock according to both the machines hooked to him and Prowl's own spark.

Even in stasis Jazz's spark reached out to his, trying to sooth, to reassure, to draw its other half closer.

A barely suppressed whimper came from Prowl as he crossed the room, wanting to give in and be that much closer, spark wanting to reassure itself that Jazz was back to rights. The Praxian settled for running a hand gently over the repaired visor and helm.

"You can lift the lock soon?" He was sure Ratchet wouldn't have allowed him up in the room if the medic didn't have the intention of releasing Jazz soon, but it helped Prowl to ask. Kept him from asking other questions that he really didn't want to know the answers to.

"Just stay right there," the CMO instructed firmly as he began to disconnect Jazz from the medical equipment. Though it seemed like joors with both their sparks lunging at each other, desperate to connect, Prowl knew it took Ratchet less than a klik to release Jazz from stasis.

While Prowl got to watch Jazz's features, Ratchet was watching them both with his medical sensor suite, keen to pick up on any irregularity before it became an issue.

The Praxian moved at rapid speed through a mix of emotions, trembling as he waited for Jazz to cycle back to consciousness. Relief at the sounds of systems powering up on their own, proper whisper quiet and functioning correctly. Underlying fear that something more than physical had happened to his mate. Shame and guilt still buried beneath all of the other stronger emotions, biding their time before rising to torture Prowl again.

Prowl went still as life finally came back to the repaired visor, blue rising slowly back to its normal brightness.

"Jazz?" Soft question almost prayer as Prowl waited.

"Prowler," the familiar, musical voice rumbled in response as two hands came up to rig into gaps in Prowl's chest armor and pulled hard. Jazz didn't care if Prowl came down or he pulled himself up, just so long as he got chassis to chassis with his bonded _now_.

Up was in the end result, Prowl sweeping him up and holding the smaller mech against him, from all outside views quite possibly with the intent of never letting him go again.

~So sorry. I'm so sorry.~ Jazz repeated across their bond in a litany as he did an impressive job of mending himself into his bonded's frame. ~Primus, I'm so sorry Prowler.~

Hands swept over the smaller frame, replacing the still fresh memories of damage and destruction with the knowledge of repairs and completeness in the now.

~Here now.~ Prowl wasn't entirely sure if the words were for him, for Jazz, or for them both. But they were truth, with the Praxian seeking everything he could to confirm that this was his mate safe and sound. The frame, the voice, the spark so close to his that he craved as final confirmation.

He could feel Jazz's need, Jazz's intent, and realized in a sub-processor that his bonded was just as needy to merge sparks. "Please," Jazz gasped as his chest plates parted. ~Need you. Need you content.~

Somewhere amid all the need and desperation Prowl found himself on the berth, Jazz pinned against his chest as the Praxian's spark met his mate's, merging as soon as it was freed and reflecting the need driving both of them.

Almost pain from the merge as Prowl's spark latched on to it's mate, still haunted by the feelings of _fading_ just before loss.

~Never,~ Jazz promised with all his spark. ~I will never leave you like that. I ... I'll _join_ you before I leave you alone.~

~Please.~ Prowl begged, knowing if there was any truth the ancient myth that he would rather live a shorter life with Jazz's spark next to his own than suffering it alone before joining his mate in the Well. He felt along the bond, touching all of Jazz through the connection, confirming to spark and processor that his mate was with him again. Slowly fear faded, replaced with joy and relief and the now-peace of being so connected. ~Love you.~

~Love you,~ Jazz cried in joy at Prowl's recovery, his own trembling smoothing into a soft purr of pleasure-desire. ~Love you so much, Prowler. I'm so sorry I put you through that.~

~My fault.~ Prowl answered, love and apology and pain flowing across the bond. ~My fault. Forgive me.~

~_**No**_!~ the ferocity of Jazz's reply shocked Prowl right out of his thoughts. ~Not your fault Prowl. Never your fault. We do what we must to end this nightmare of a war. That is all.~

Prowl trembled, pressing against Jazz, frame and spark. ~We do.~ He agreed quietly, admitting that as truth. ~But planning is my job. Finding a way to take down Shockwave, my task. And the longer it takes the more everyone suffers. The more _you_ suffer.~ Images of Jazz's mangled frame, of the pain Prowl had felt through the bond escaped his control. ~My failure, my fault.~

~My failure, if anyone's, Prowler,~ Jazz countered firmly. ~I cannot adapt as I need to. Please, babe, _please_ don't blame yourself for something that began long before we met.~

Denial that any of the blame was Jazz's, for Prowl loved Jazz as he was, and the Praxian by now knew the difference between the Jazz whose spark was bound to his own and the parts of Jazz created and sustained by this war.

~Love you.~ Prowl stated. ~Love you always. Forget with me?~ Desire to forget, even for a little while all the levels of pain forced on them by the war.

~Yes,~ Jazz willingly let go of his grip on consciousness and sank quickly and fully into the wholeness of their merge. The two sparks rejoicing in being reunited, in sharing the full love and desire and reaffirming the bond between them.


	36. Shocking News

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics ./290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p>At All Costs 36: Shocking News<p>

* * *

><p>Prowl didn't venture outside the base very often anymore, except to travel from one base to another. Unlike Megatron, Prime was rarely willing to risk his tacticians on the battlefield, commissioned officers or not. In the six hundred vorns since Prowl had changed sides things had only gotten worse, with both sides practically locked in a stalemate.<p>

It was frustrating to the tactician. Even he couldn't figure out what they were doing that seemed to put a stop in the Autobots plans every time the Autobots were convinced they had an advantage. But then, more than once Prowl had been convinced that it was the blessing of Primus that they had gotten information they needed just in time to put a stop to something that would have put the Decepticons in a position of power.

Still, there were times when Prowl felt the need to venture outside of a base, just to remind himself that there was more than just an army and a Prime, however worthy that was, that he was fighting for. That there were still neutrals, individuals trying to live despite the power play going on all around them.

Trips like this one.

High above them Dogfight and his trinemates circled, wide and loose to avoid drawing attention but still able to be there in an instant if there was trouble. At his side was Jazz ... or rather Korrës ... as the visible bodyguard.

Even after this long away from the Cons, Korrës was more than able to silence and move bots away with no more than a look. Right now he was walking at his protégé's side, silent and on alert. Prowl had no doubts that his training with Korrës and the ability to defend himself _well_ was one of the few reasons Prime had eventually consented to this.

As they passed the ruined shell of a building that had once been on the outskirts of Praxus, a familiar squawk demanded their attention.

::Coming?:: Prowl asked over a close comm, recognizing the sound and pinpointing it with ease, an edge of longing and excitement in his tone. It had been far too long since he had seen any of the symbiots, and even longer since he had been able to speak with one of them.

If Laserbeak was that this close and requesting their attention he obviously intended to stay long enough to speak.

::Of course, Prowl. I heard him,:: Korrës said as they casually changed direction, intent not to draw attention from their airborne guards.

"Prowl, Korrës," Laserbeak greeted them with a trilling coo as he hopped to Prowl's offered forearm. "Soundwave sent me. Shockwave must be deactivated now or all our work will be in vain."

He hadn't expected the symbiot to stay for long, but that was abrupt even for Laserbeak. But then, the news he had to share did not make for good hearing.

"How soon is 'now'? And why?" Prowl asked, bringing his arm close to his frame to shield their visitor more from casual sight.

"Within the vorn," Laserbeak shifted uneasily. "His plans are near complete. If he takes leadership from Megatron we can not stop him. He is immune to master's gift."

The Praxians field flared, calm and comforting as he thought. He had plans, none of them solid and all of them risky, but things that he could take before the Prime. "Do you have any information that might be useful? Information we may not already have?"

"Much," the avian nodded his small helm. "Shockwave's schedule, schematics to many of his facilities, defenses, recharge chamber."

"Physical weaknesses?" Korrës asked, doing planning of his own.

"Far too few," the avian ducked his helm to the deadly minibot as he accepted the hardline connection with Prowl to download what intel he had. "Master suggested an anti-matter bomb attached to his back."

"A very nice thought." Prowl grumbled, doing a preliminary sort on the data as it was downloaded. He would add it into his personal file later, but at first glance some of this was already cause for alterations to his existing plans. "Any other suggestions?"

"Give the files to Meister and don't ask questions," the avian actually shivered at mentioning the nightmare Prime occasionally unleashed on the Decepticons.

Prowl moved him closer, not sharing the avians fear but still displaying a level of respect for the mech that was almost myth. "I can do that."

Laserbeak willingly accepted the comfort, snuggling against Prowl's chest and cooing. "If any mech can end Shockwave, it is _him_."

"Is Soundwave ready to take over and surrender when Shockwave is no longer a threat?" Korrës asked.

"Yes," Laserbeak nodded.

"I take it he has some sort of plan already worked out?" Prowl, running his free hand down Laserbeak's back as he shifted a little farther into the shadows.

"Yes," he trilled happily at the attention and snuggled against Prowl a little more. "He asked me not to tell you. It would be inappropriate."

"I am now appropriately concerned." Prowl commented, amused and tone clear that he was teasing. He sobered slightly. "Everyone is well? News has been scarce lately."

"We are doing well," he promised. "Soundwave ensures we have enough energon and he is still feared by most enough that we are generally left alone. The twins push the limits the most, even now. I'm not sure they'll ever mature; they're over three thousand now."

A genuine smile from Prowl. "I doubt it. It is not in their nature." Not that Prowl doubted they were capable of acting their age if there was a need, but the level of need required was so great Prowl hoped for their sake it would never come to be.

Gathering his courage, Prowl asked the question closest so his spark. "And Soundwave?"

Laserbeak ducked his head and cooed, rubbing against Prowl in longing. "He misses you terribly. Once he thought of capturing you so he could _touch_ you, even if just for a few orns. He is healthy and strong still. Rank and ability has protected him."

The Praxian vented softly, joy and sadness racing through him at the same time. Joy that Soundwave was well, and sadness because Prowl's spark still longed for the mech he loved but could not be with.

"I miss him as well." Prowl murmured, the message clearly meant for the host when Laserbeak returned to him. "And I love him still."

A trickle of relief wound its way into Laserbeak's field to be shared with Prowl. "Soon, Prowl. As soon as Shockwave is dealt with."

"We'll make sure it happens," Korrës spoke up, determined for a very different reason than Prowl, but no less determined. "Shockwave will be on his way to the Well before he can take over."

The sounds of others approaching caught the attention of all three in, Prowl swearing softly at his own foolishness for staying in one place for so long and attracting attention. With a final affectionate touch to the symbiot's head he moved Laserbeak gently away. ::Can you hide for a bit, until there is a opening for you to get away? We can distract them and redirect their attention.::

::Of course,:: he pressed into the touch before squirming into a jagged crack, blacking his optics and going perfectly still and silent.

~Want me to make you give some up, or another distraction?~ Jazz-Korrës asked, pressing closer to his love.

Prowl purred so that the sound carried through his entire frame and into his lover. ~This should work well, I think. Jazz they would stop and watch. You they should move on quickly enough for fear of irritating you, and lack any desire to come back and look the place over later. Going to give training a poor reputation though.~

~Only among mechs who don't want to suck random spike,~ he chuckled softly and leaned back against the wall as he pulled Prowl down to kneel in front of him far more gently than it looked. ~Which aren't many.~

~True.~ Prowl agreed, amusement filtering through as his hands caressed black and deep golden armor, silver replacing it in his processor easily since his spark recognized the mech before him. Above him Jazz-Korrës rumbled in approval and slid his spike cover open, allowing the black and gold length to begin pressurizing.

~Love you Prowl,~ Jazz's spark voice never changed. ~Love you so much.~

Prowl hummed, more amusement trickling through as he became a willing and active participant in the distraction as he took the spike in his mouth and hands found their way deeper into hip joints.

A deeply resonant moan of pleasure washed over Prowl as they both heard two of their Seeker-guards hovering while the third blocked most of the light from the doorway.

~Love you, light and joy and life.~ Prowl answered, citing just a few of the things Jazz was to him as glossa and tongue worked mech spike, every intent of making the audience jealous of something that they could never have and bringing his sparkmate pleasure.

The rev of Seeker turbines told of Dogfight's first reaction to seeing them, but the Seeker quickly backed away and took off with his trine.

~That worked,~ Jazz-Korrës shivered. His fingers stroked Prowl's chevron, sharing and enjoying the pleasure with his love. ~You're making Smokescreen _so_ jealous. Mech still wants ya bad.~

~He will just have to learn that there are some things he can never have.~ Prowl answered, the implication perfectly clear that _this_ was one of those things. ~I have never desired him as a lover in any way.~

~It's good for him to be thwarted on occasion,~ Jazz-Korrës moaned deeply, his hips beginning to roll in a smooth, easy thrust into Prowl's mouth and down his relaxed intake. ~You've ruined me for other mechs. I love it.~

~Oh?~ Pride filled the bond as Prowl hummed and sucked, enjoying the reaction his attention was earning him.

~No one focuses on me like you do,~ Jazz didn't stifle his moans at all. ~No one _cares_ for me, for my pleasure, my desires, like you do. Even those who want to indulge my kinks only want to go with the ones they like too.~

~Bonded, love.~ Prowl reminded him gently, underlying emotion/thought making clear that Jazz understood it was a joy and not a burden. ~Mine to love and treasure and pleasure like no one else gets to. Your happiness is mine.~

~Yes,~ Jazz's reply was filled with the unique joy he gained from Prowl's happiness, how it differed from the pleasure/joy his function brought with others. ~True even before we bonded,~ he moaned and trembled, already on the edge of overload in barely more than a klik. ~So glad you're mine. So glad I make you happy.~

Love and affection offered all the more strongly as Prowl purred, easily feeling how close Jazz was and wanting to feel that release in his bonded as well. ~Let go love. Enjoy.~

A long, rolling moan rose to a keen of ecstasy as Korrës' hips jerked forward several times to shoot thick, crackling transfluid into Prowl's willing mouth as their bond sang with the glory of the release.

Prowl hummed and swallowed, sharing in the joy of the release before releasing the spike and resting his helm against the minibot. ~Love you.~

~Love you,~ Jazz murmured, enjoying the warmth of Prowl's frame against his and the content humming of both their systems. ~Ready to move on?~ he asked, stroking Prowl's helm.

~Yes.~ Prowl stood, resisting the urge to steal a kiss from his bonded in this guise. ~I know they do not like it when I wander outside, even if I can take care of myself, and they will be looking for us to return soon.~

Back in the safety of their quarters, as safe as they were anywhere, Prowl sighed softly, optics focusing on the form of his mate, Jazz back in all of his proper silver glory.

"Would you like a copy of the files now, or should I wait to give them to you until later, after you feel up to changing again?"

"Might we well give them to me now," Jazz murmured, leaning against his mate with a soft sound of regret. It was the anxiety, even fear, rippling over the bond that focused Prowl's attention however. "Meister isn't at all fond of you."

Surprise, concern, confusion flowed in return. "I was not aware that I was disagreeable to your other personalities."

Jazz cringed. ~He's snarly about everything I do that wasn't his choice first. Bonding is kinda a big thing to do to a mech who thinks he's more real than I am. So he doesn't like you. He's just too good to delete."

~But you are able to deal with him?~ Prowl asked, taking Jazz's hand and leading him in the direction of the berth.

~So far,~ Jazz said uneasily, willing to be led. ~Last time did require Black Echo to put him down by force. None of the others are quite so separate from _me_. Meister ... there's none of me in him. He's sparked Black Ops. I inherited him from the last mech who held the title, who got him from his predecessor. All the others were built on what I am.~

~So when you go under as him...~ Prowl didn't even finish the thought, not at all pleased with the implication as he laid down and pulled Jazz against him, hardline port offered and accepted without any conscious consideration.

~He has only a limited interest in keeping me functioning,~ Jazz finished the grim reality. ~It's one thing that makes him so effective. You can destroy Meister's current frame, but you'll never destroy _Meister_. A new frame for him is a frustration, but little more. He will sacrifice my spark and frame without hesitation to complete the mission. And ... I can't blame him, not really, for being what he is. He misses being real, having a legal right to exist. He wants his existence back, a spark to call his own again.~

That was a stretch for even Prowl to process as he tried to work through it. For a brief instant he wondered how one came into such an existence before deciding that he really didn't want to know and shoved that thought as far down as he could manage.

Instead he focused on the data that Laserbeak had given him, sending Jazz the raw information as he had received it, the analysis he had already done and the annotations he had made as a separate, compact companion file. Then he offered a much larger file.

Jazz accepted it without hesitation, only investigating the huge personal file on Shockwave after it downloaded. He nuzzled Prowl. ~Thanks love. I'm sure it'll be useful. We have two joors before the meeting...~

~Everything I have on him, since we started looking for a way to take him down. All worth it if it brings you back.~ Prowl responded. ~I will miss you.~

Jazz moved up to claim a heated hiss. ~My spark will stay with you no matter what happens,~ he promised. ~But my frame to end the war? No matter how much it might hurt us both, I can't find it in me to object if that is the final price. I know you would make the same choice too. That logic center of yours would allow no less,~ Jazz murmured, leaving no doubt in Prowl's spark that Prowl's heavy reliance on logic and order was one of many things Jazz truly treasured about him.

~No, it would not.~ Prowl agreed, pressing into the kiss, deepening it and drawing it out with the desperation of a mech facing a truth he did not want to acknowledge. Strong hands reached up to frame the smaller mechs face, breaking the kiss and creating a distance so that Prowl could look squarely into the brilliant blue visor.

~Two joor...~ He repeated. ~Should I spend that making sure you have a reason to want to return?~

~And memories for you to enjoy until I return,~ Jazz trembled in desire to touch and feel. As much as he always wanted such things, there was an urgency to it now, a final memory to hold onto tightly while he was the one locked away and nearly oblivious in that box Meister usually inhabited.

Prowl drew him down for another kiss, this one tender and gentle but full of love and complete belief in the mech he held. ~What memory do you wish to take with you?~

So many ideas flashed through Jazz's processors, the gist of them all clear to Prowl, but in the few nanokliks it took to happen, they both recognized the desire Jazz kept drifting back to.

A soft purr of complete willingness from Prowl at the idea as he claimed another kiss from Jazz, the smaller mech's desire something that would sustain Prowl as well.

Jazz smiled warmly into the kiss and wrapped Prowl, spark and systems in his adoration, love, deep thanks and joy at having him. Everything that was Jazz sang at their mutual desire and the hope it would sustain them until they met again.

Matching emotion swirled in return, with emphasis on just how much Prowl treasured the mech in his arms as the Praxian shifted them both, moving so that he was supported somewhat upright with Jazz across his chest and in his arms.

Snuggling against Prowl's chest, Jazz spread his legs to straddle his lover's lap and reached up to encircle his neck. ~Love you, Prowl,~ he murmured as his helm came down to nuzzle, then lick the strong cables of Prowl's neck. ~Love you so much.~

~I know.~ Prowl murmured, head tilting to the side to allow Jazz better access as the Praxian's hands traveled over the smaller frame, working into the joints before one slid over Jazz's valve cover to find it already open and even the valve rim slick and ready as Jazz pressed into the touch.

A low, shuddering moan of desire that was more a want for the additional connection than pleasure answered the touch. Jazz put more effort into Prowl's neck, knowing how much the mech got off on the attention. It was more than enough to make Jazz shiver in pleasure himself, even before the bond and hardline added the direct feedback.

~Love you.~ Prowl offered in return, understanding of the miracle that Jazz loved him and the wonder at the gift of the fact that Jazz had chosen to love him-love Prowl- when the pleasurebot surely could have had his choice of any mech he wanted.

~You want _me_, even the dark parts, not a fantasy of what a pleasurebot-lover would be like,~ Jazz murmured, his own amazement that anyone would see him, accept him, for what he truly was flowing freely. ~Much as I love you for who and what you are, not some fantasy I may have had when I first saw you.~

~I had the advantage. I never knew you as anything but Jazz.~ Prowl pointed out around a moan of his own, single finger tracing the edge of the offered valve.

Jazz had been the first mech to even openly act like he had a personal interest in Prowl beyond the Praxian's obvious functional talents, the first to see pain, the Praxian's pain, from his functioning and be sorry about it for _Prowl's_ sake.

~First in so many things.~ Prowl murmured, spike pressurizing as other memories of Jazz, things that Prowl treasured, rose to be shared. ~Only thing that was a fantasy for me ever was the idea that you could be mine, and even that came true.~

~A fantasy for us both that came true,~ Jazz moaned as he used his glossa to draw a main energon line into his mouth while his hips rocked against Prowl's fingers, aching for the spike it could feel so near.

Fingers withdrew, leaving Jazz wanting until strong hands grabbed his hips and lifted, spike sliding into slick valve with shuddering moans from Prowl and Jazz.

~Yes!~ Jazz code cried in bliss as much as Jazz's spark cried in joy at sharing pleasure with its mate. ~Love you,~ he moaned and redoubled his efforts on Prowl's neck, wanting to drive him into the mindless bliss of near-overload.

~Love you always and through everything.~ Prowl responded, starting to move slowly in and out of his mate, savoring for the moment the feel even through the pleasure from the attention to his neck, emotion and promise surging across the bond.

~Will always return to you,~ Jazz promised as he allowed himself to slip away into the bliss of their interfacing. ~Will always love you .~

* * *

><p>Two joors passed far too quickly, and the couple was still in the washrack cleaning up and steeling themselves for what was to come when Black Echo pinged their door for admittance.<p>

Prowl glanced at Jazz, checking across the bond and visually. ~Want me to let him in love?~

~Yes,~ Jazz stretched up for a kiss and went to work to quickly finish cleaning Prowl's back. ~It's best if he's here to greet Meister.~

Worry bubbled up in Prowl, quickly buried as sent a command so that the door opened to allow Black Echo in before the Ops mech decided to let himself in. He flicked his sensor wings as soon as Jazz was done, not even bothering to take the time to dry them properly and claimed another quick kiss with they had just a moment.

~Love you, Prowl,~ Jazz poured all his love into the bond before carefully blocking it off as gently as he could.

Without a sound the pair went to greet the ranking officer.

"Ready?" Black Echo looked at the silver minibot.

"As I ever am," Jazz x-vented. He lay on the berth and shut down fully.

Black Echo plugged in and initiated the boot sequence with Meister fully in charge.

For Prowl, it was an unsettling experience. It had always been strange when Jazz brought a different personality profile, but this was far more complete. He could feel what Jazz had said too. Meister was _not_ fond of him and hated the bond.

He hid the shudder that ran through him, not sure if his defiance of the dislike would make any difference, but it made him feel better. Jazz was his, no matter what this mech thought, and the stranger before him was only borrowing his frame.

The silver frame he loved so much stood up but the frame language was all wrong. The mech that stood before them was an unrepentant killer; a mech without morals of any kind and no fear of death or pain.

"Meister," Black Echo greeted him with a glare, locking optics before Meister finally looked slightly away in submission. "Mission form," he ordered coolly. "You know you're going to be sent after Shockwave."

"About time," Meister growled before focusing inward to shift his mass around in the unpleasant processes of becoming a Praxian tri-wing minibot in design. White and gold replaced silver. Three sensor wing segments spread proudly and the deep purple visor took in everything with a disinterested air of being able to destroy anything. "You're going to _owe_ me for this one."

"You still exist by my good will," Black Echo growled at his subordinate. "You are owned nothing but your continued existence. Something you should be grateful to still have."

A smirk crossed the perfectly sculpted features, making the Praxian minibot look _wrong_ as he focused on Prowl. "I bet you have a different opinion. You want your Jazz back and both of you want me out of his processors."

Prowl tamped down the instinctive desire to allow his own sensor panels to flare, resisting the urge to rise to the probes. Instead he shrugged slightly, seeing no point in denying what they both knew as truth.

"You know I'll survive even if he's vaporized," Meister purred even as Black Echo growled his engine. "You're close enough to Prime," he stepped up to Prowl in a complete mockery of the sensual mech that was Jazz and ran a finger down Prowl's chest. "We can all have what we want. You can have your bonded back saner than you met him and Jazz can be rid of me for good. All you have to do is convince Prime to have me uploaded into an empty frame and have it sparked _if_ I bring him back to you intact enough to be repaired."

Prowl stared into the visor and didn't flinch, not at the words or the touch. It was part of the deepest desire of his spark, to have Jazz with him safe and sane and whole, no longer broken by this war.

But the words of the _stranger_, and there was no other word for him, that stood before him chilled the energon in Prowl's lines. No matter the desires of his own spark, he knew that he would never forgive himself for loosing this unchecked, and he hoped that Jazz would not forgive him either, despite the cost.

And he had the promise from Jazz, enough to sustain.

"I serve my Prime and his vision first, whatever the cost to myself." Prowl spoke quietly. "Jazz and I understand each other, and the cost."

Even if the cost was Jazz.

"Pity, this one had a long functioning ahead of him," Meister shrugged before he turned to face Black Echo. "I'll see you in the meeting. I'm sure he wants to know about me," he smirked and jerked a thumb towards Prowl before leaving the room.

"The things we do in the name of war," Black Echo muttered quietly.

"And that we justify in the name of others." Prowl agreed, venting softly, having already reached a conclusion. He did not like Black Echo. He liked this individual borrowing Jazz's frame and spark even less.

"And the Prime," Black Echo nodded and turned to leave.

"Why?" Prowl asked, interrupting his departure, tone neutral at the moment.

"Mmm?" the Ops mech turned to look at him. "You know about the Personality Detention Center?"

Prowl shook his head in denial. It was not something that he was familiar with. "Should I?"

"Not really," Black Echo ruffled his armor in a shrug. "It's the place mech's datacores are placed when they're too skilled to be extinguished and too dangerous to remain in society. Meister's the worst of them, and one of the best. He's been in there since Guardian Prime, but we think he dates back to Alpha Prime's time."

"So you pull him out when he is needed, upload him into a mech, and then what? Remove him when he is no longer needed?" Prowl concluded. Not judgmental. Not yet.

"That's the theory," Black Echo shrugged. "The removal part hasn't been needed in the records I still have. His host has never survived long enough to need it."

Golden optics flashed, anger that had nowhere to go, no direction, as Prowl started for the door. "I assume there is still a meeting."

"Since you insisted that Prime be part of it, yes," Black Echo managed not to grumble as he stepped towards the door. "He's not unusually involved with assassination plans. Doesn't like them at all."

"I can brief him on it afterward, if you would prefer. Either way he needs to be informed of the mission we are about to undertake." Prowl pointed out as he offered an alternative.

"He's never needed to know before, but if you want to tell him go ahead, since it's on your insistence that we're doing this now," Black Echo grumbled. "There's a _reason_ the Ops commander has always been either SIC or TIC, Prowl. Primes aren't programmed to handle this kind of information or missions. It makes them glitch. This one handles it worse than most. So yes, if you must tell him, telling him later is better."

"Very well. I will comm Prime and have him meet me somewhere else. I would appreciate knowing when he is gone." Prowl said.

"I'll comm you," Black Echo nodded and left.


	37. Freedom of the Hunt

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Meister  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Crossover, Slash, Rape, Violence, Death  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p><strong>At All Costs 37: Freedom of the Hunt<strong>

* * *

><p>Meister smiled privately as he finished sorcelling into the form of the guard he'd taken down. He plugged into the mech's dataport and began downloading everything useful-looking. Designation, rank, duties, access, who he knew and how well, maps of the base and everything else.<p>

This was going to be _exhilarating_. It has been ages since he'd had such a target. A shiver passed through his now bulkier, deep gray form.

Shockwave was deeply embedded in this base. It had been one of his strongholds for vorns, even if it had only recently come to light. A place where the mad scientist felt as secure as he did anywhere. And the perfect place to finally lay him to rest.

Convenient too was the fact that the duty cycle was just getting ready to change over, with the mech whose identity Meister now owned going off shift. He casually finished Drummer's patrol, nodded to the right mechs, entered the right codes at doors and proceeded to follow Drummer's usual pattern and joined several mechs for energon after shift.

It wasn't the good stuff that Jazz enjoyed, or even as good as what Autobot grunts in Iacon enjoyed for that matter, but it fuelled a frame.

It also allowed for all of the latest gossip, some of it entertaining, most of it boring, but all of it useful in it's own way.

Shortages here, an attack there, and rumors that Megatron might order Shockwave to move again. It was said that the large mech had been much displeased with the last forced move, which had occurred in the middle of several ongoing projects and interrupted the mad scientists' research.

It all gave him something to do while he waited for an opportune moment to sneak in and strike. Preferably the time when Shockwave would be in recharge. According to Prowl's notes that would be in another three joors this orn.

Of course Shockwave had to be perfectly efficient ... by functioning on a cycle based on his frame's needs rather than existing on a schedule dictated by social needs and conventions like most mechs. It made him easier to predict but much more difficult to actually attack in recharge. Especially since he did not insist that the rest of the base conform to his schedule, so long as when a mech was summoned he appeared promptly and with the hope that he would emerge once more.

So he killed the joors socializing and generally enjoying the ability to have a frame once more. A quick 'face with a mech that was soon graying, his processors shredded from the inside as Meister overloaded. Another dozen killed in different ways just for the enjoyment of experiencing each way of killing again.

Meister had no intention of letting _anything_ within this base be alive when he walked out, and as many of those as possible would be up close and personal.

It was just more fun that way, being able to experience that moment of terror when his victims actually figured what was happening and that they had reached the end of their pitiful existence.

Methodically destroying each personally gave him more options too. More identities and shapes to wreak havoc with during his fun, even an occasional new skill or bit of really useful information.

He shivered in excitement as it came time to fry Shockwave. What to do to him though? A processor like that would be a glorious experience to ravage, the frame a delightful one to have access to. That _intel_ that mech must have ... Meister suppressed a moan of arousal.

The mechs personal space was deep inside the base, shielded from the outside like every place the mech claimed as his own. Difficult to reach by attack, but for a single mech that now had practically complete access to the entire base and was already inside?

Simplicity.

For a short moment Meister stood before the recharging giant purple mech. So many things he wanted to do. Send him to Primus with no clue what ended him. Tear his processors apart _slowly_, enjoying the erotic kill.

In a moment that Meister would deny for the rest of his existence, the choice was made by his host. A powerful antimatter bomb was magnetized to Shockwave's frame just above his spark chamber, then glued by one of Wheeljack's concoctions into place.

It was enough to snap the giant out of recharge. His single yellow optic locked onto Meister's Praxian frame.

Not surprise, as he had become accustomed to when one of his victims was suddenly and abruptly made aware of his presence. In fact there was little initial reaction beyond the feeling of cold detached analysis being applied to the intruder and the situation.

Priority one: Keep his own frame intact. If this one was destroyed, it could be a very long time before he got another.

That meant getting out of the bomb's blast range before it went off in six nanokliks.

A time constraint which the large purple mech suddenly seemed to notice as well, his attention suddenly transferred from the intruder to the device glued to his chest plate and set to explode, taking his spark and his entire frame with it.

"Bye, bye, Shocky," Meister said cheerfully before leaping forward to take advantage of the distraction to take Shockwave's helm as a trophy. He was already bolting for the door and enough distance to save himself when he hit the ground in alt mode and full throttle.

If there was anything left of the mech after the explosion that tailed him out the door one would not have been able to find it with normal optics, which had been his entire intent all along.

His orders had only been to get rid of the mech, permanently and beyond recovery. The means and method been left up to him completely, another sort of freedom he was unaccustomed to any more.

When the explosion detonated Meister was a safe distance away and enjoying the chaos he had sown to pick off the rest of the mechs on base.

He was never going back to that prison.

* * *

><p>He'd been putting it off, trying to deal with it himself, but there reached a point where even he was willing admit defeat. And Ratchet had offered any time Prowl felt like he needed to talk, or just needed the company.<p>

Prowl stood outside the door and sent a single request. If the medic didn't respond Prowl wouldn't hold it against him. Ratchet had spent a lot of time in medical lately putting mechs back together from a bad round of skirmishes, and Prowl hadn't tried to comm ahead to see if he was welcome.

He really should have known better. The door opened before he'd even finished contemplating why it shouldn't. No one was in the entry room, though.

::Be out in a klik or two,:: Ratchet commed him. ::Help yourself to the high grade if you want.::

He didn't wait to be invited twice, even if he did feel obliged to ask as he headed for the place where he knew Ratchet stored his personal stash of good high grade. ::I'm not intruding am I? Keeping you from recharge?::

Never mind that no matter how hard he tried or how low his energy levels Prowl was recharging poorly himself, just maintaining enough to function without giving himself away.

::Cleaning up after surgery,:: Ratchet supplied. ::You can come in and talk here if you want. I can give you something to help the recharge cycles pass easier until he comes back.::

Prowl wandered back to the privacy of Ratchets personal washrack, a small amount of high grade in hand. "I am that obvious?"

"Only to those who know you well," Ratchet chuckled. "Besides, if you _were_ recharging well given the circumstances, I'd want to do some serious checking in your processors. I don't know a lot about him, but I do know Black Echo well enough to be very disturbed by anyone _he_ calls a monster, The Terror of Cybertron, being loose."

Prowl sighed, swirling the high grade as memories of the personality that was using Jazz's frame and spark rose. "You should be."

"Anything you can tell me?" Ratchet slowed his cleaning as he devoted more attention to his guest.

"The Meister profile is very ... disturbing. I met it this time, before it left." Prowl murmured, sensor wings quivering for a moment. "I will be glad when it is locked back up and Jazz is home and safe."

"You, me and every mech on this planet," Ratchet grumbled. "That's one cyber-wolf that won't stay on its chain much longer. Even Black Echo admits it's about time to purge him for good. I just hope that this time it goes better for the host," he added quietly, too-knowing blue optics boring into Prowl. "Have you two discussed a worst case scenario?"

Prowl shook his head slowly. "Black Echo and I have discussed little lately, except for some upgrades to me he believes would be a benefit. He was not pleased with my decision to brief Optimus on recent developments."

Ratchet snorted. "I bet. I meant you and Jazz. He knows the risks, probably better than I do and I _fix_ the crazy mech."

"Not in detail. We both acknowledge the fact that there is a good chance he will not return from any one of his assignments. One of the reasons I wished Optimus to know that SpecOps had borrowed him for a high risk mission." Prowl shrugged a little.

"So extinguishing is the worst case you two came up with," Ratchet x-vented before turning the blowers on to dry himself. "What about if we get him back, but the only way to save his spark is a complete processor reformat? You'd be bonded to a newly sparked pleasurebot for all practical purposes. No memories, no experiences, nothing that made him the mech you fell in love with."

A shudder ran through the Praxian. "Then I will learn to accept him as he is, and pray to Primus that there is still something there that feels, or will learn to feel, something for me."

"Figured as much," Ratchet managed a small smile. "His spark is still the same ... just be prepared for it. Meister won't let the frame go easily. Not with the war over. He must realize that he's not going to get out again for a very long time."

"He is very aware of the fact Ratchet." Prowl informed him. "Even more so with the understanding that this mission could tip the war in our favor."

"I just hope Black Echo can put Meister back in his cage one last time," Ratchet x-vented as he turned the blowers off. "Jazz has been through enough already in the name of the war."

"I know." The Praxian was very familiar with what Jazz had suffered in the name of the war, both before Prowl had met him and afterward. He finished off the last of the high grade he had brought with him and studied the empty container, contemplating.

"Come on, there's more," Ratchet cuffed his shoulder. "What else is on your processors?"

"The idea that my bonded may not be returning to me isn't enough? Or that for some reason Black Echo believes I will benefit from a dataport upgrade isn't worrisome? The fact that even if the mission does go well there is still a chance for everything to implode upon itself in an unforeseen manner?"

"That would be the list," Ratchet nodded as he picked up a couple cubes of good high grade from his stash and continued to the entry room. "Just what did he say about wanting you to upgrade?"

"Just that he believes there might be a need for me to have better dataports and that Keepsafe would be doing the work." Prowl explained as he followed Ratchet back into the more pubic sections of the medics quarters. "I don't see a reason to not get them, but I thought I would see what you thought first."

"Short form: that if he's offering his own medic for the procedure, he's _scared_ for you," Ratchet said grimly. "It also means he believes that if Meister breaks loose of all controls, he'll come after you sooner rather than later."

Prowl accepted the offered energon and found himself a seat as he contemplated this answer. "So he considers me a target of Meister."

From what Jazz had told him and Meister's own actions Prowl was not surprised at the news. If nothing else it was a personal score to the mech that needed to be settled, punishment for Prowl and insurance that Jazz would remain a host for him.

"I can arrange time with Keepsafe tomorrow."

"Just be sure to ask her exactly what the upgrades do, and come see me when she's done," Ratchet said grimly. "I probably can't undo her work, but I can at least warn you what it all does beyond the obvious."

"I would appreciate that." It wasn't all the information that Prowl had been hoping for, but was honestly far more than he had been expecting. With that he took another drink of the highgrade, sighing as it settled in his tank.

"Now then, are you picking up anything across the bond?" Ratchet asked.

"Flickers. Emotions mostly, nothing that I can put into words that make any sort of sense." Prowl said, trying to describe the flashes he had been getting on occasion. It had been both easier and harder to ignore, since what he was picking up did not _feel_ like Jazz, but harder because part of his processor insisted that anything that came from there must be coming from his bonded.

Ratchet nodded. "Anything unsettling?"

"Not so far." Prowl said, sorting through what he had felt. "Other than the fact that I feel the need to be concerned about anything that seems to make him very happy."

Ratchet winced. "Yes, I can see that being very unsettling. At least it tells you the mission hasn't gone terribly wrong yet. How are you holding up? I know you aren't recharging well, and for once I'm not going to yell at you about it, but is anything else hard to deal with?"

Prowl considered his answer, the medic being one of the few mechs to get a detailed honest answer out of him any more. "Nothing that I have not dealt with before, simply aggravated by the current circumstances."

Another sip of highgrade allowed the Praxian a moment to continue framing his answer, and golden optics finally rose to meet blue. "Emotions that I am ill equipped to deal with on my own, mostly. Though I was not going to be overly concerned until there was evidence that they were starting to have an effect on my work."

A low hum of understanding and Ratchet nodded. "My door's always open when you need it." He paused, glancing down at his own cube. "You've read up on breaking bonds and the dangers to those around you?"

"Yes. Right after Jazz left for his first op mission after we bonded. The effects sound very unpleasant, so I often choose not to contemplate them." His wings twitched gently. "I wish to believe I would not be a danger to those around me."

"Not to be placating, but my professional opinion is that you'd finish whatever you're working on if it's critical, drop into stasis and then fade," Ratchet said grimly. "As dramatic as it sounds and as legendary as the events are, believing you are with your bonded and in the danger that killed them is extremely rare. It's one reason we try to ensure bonds are muted in situations like yours. It's never occurred with a properly muted bond, but it also only takes a nanoklik of poor judgment to open it wide when you begin to feel the panic/pain of impending death from the other side."

Prowl flinched at the mention of loosing a bonded, so much closer to home with Jazz being so far away at the moment, but still found a small smile to offer Ratchet. "If it's any better, I find your professional opinion comforting, if anything."

"It means you don't like deluding yourself much," Ratchet humphed, though there was a smile for Prowl in it. "You also like to plan. I _know_ it makes you feel better when you've anticipated and analyzed the potential outcomes and how to deal with them."

"Very true," Prowl agreed, then stopped, frowning as he considered something else. "If... if something happens and what you suspects comes to pass, would you deliver a message for me?"

"Of course," Ratchet agreed immediately. "I'm your _friend_ Prowl. What do you want Soundwave to be told?"

"That I am sorry. And that I love him." Simple words, but truth that said everything Prowl needed to say and would want to remind Soundwave of.

A solemn nod. "I'll tell him if you can't," he promised. "Anyone else, anything else?" he asked softly.

"No." Prowl admitted quietly, the number of mechs he considered true friends, friends enough that he felt the need to say something to them, was small. And all of them he saw often enough that he would hope they would understand.

"I would like to think that Optimus knows how much I value his friendship-" And a friendship it was, beyond that of Prime and third. "And you listen to me enough as it is."

"He does," Ratchet nodded. "So do I. We value yours as well. Would you recharge better if you planned out how to handle it if Jazz had to be reformatted?"

"You think that is a serious possibility?" It was something that Prowl didn't want to consider, but he had to admit that Ratchet was right and he did do better with at least some sort of contingency plan in place.

"I think of the bad outcomes - Jazz dying or requiring a reformat to keep Meister from running loose - it's much more likely that it'll be a reformat," Ratchet said with pained honesty. "They're both survivors."

A harsh vent from Prowl, his opinion and his wish that Meister was something else. "What can I do?" The Praxian asked, shrinking in on himself somewhat, the highgrade starting to take effect.

"I guess the good part is that if it comes to that, Jazz should be in stasis for it and under close medical supervision," Ratchet began, digging into rarely used files. "Which also means you'll have time between learning it has to happen and actually facing the results. How much do you remember of Jazz's first vorn. The memories he shared with you when merging and bonding?"

"Most of them." Prowl admitted after a quick search. They were part of what made Jazz the mech he was, and for the most part many of them were of a happier time and a truthfully joyful Jazz, not the act that so many often saw today.

"Well, worst case, that's the mech you're going to end up with," Ratchet explained. "It was the mech he was sparked as, and I've known him long enough to know his spark is beautifully suited to his original function. I'll fight any effort to change his base programming on a reformat."

"Thank you." Prowl said, sincere. He knew how much enjoyment Jazz found when he was allowed to function as he had intended to, how happy he was being what he was supposed to be, and it was because his spark and his programming were so perfectly matched.

"How," Prowl started after a moment, pausing before forcing himself to continue. "How often has this happened?"

He hummed, going over his personal files and pinged the main system for statistics. "In the medical literature there seems to be a handful of cases every century. The reasons vary; physical damage, viral damage to programming or protocols, unrepentant, functioning-long criminals. Every few centuries a request will come along when a mech has experienced something that they can't cope with and no lesser options have been successful. They'd also include those whose spark is at odds with their core programming. Reformatting with a new core programming set for a new function they are better suited for.

"It's not common by any means, but it is a procedure I am personally supervised nine times; three as an Autobot, six as a civilian. While I won't call it ideal, the specialists and skill levels we have here on base are enough that I'd perform the procedure if needed." Ratchet lowered his gaze into his cube. "As cruel as it would be to you, it might just be the kindest outcome for Jazz. He may not like me, but I've put him back together enough times to know just how tormented his non-pleasurebot functions have left him."

"But the bond survives the reformat?" Prowl pressed, other concerns rising in his processor.

"There are only a handful of cases recorded, but yes," Ratchet nodded. "Reformatting only deals with hardware and software. It doesn't touch the spark. Jazz simply won't remember anything that happened before he's brought on line after the reformat."

"Ratchet, from what everyone has told me, from what Jazz himself has told me, it should be impossible for him to love me. He should have never had been able to bond with me." Prowl looked at the medic, concerned and a little desperate. "What will it do to him to wake up in a situation where he is bonded to a mech that he doesn't know and doesn't have any memories of?"

Ratchet shifted uncomfortably. "The inability to love is a very specific edit to the standard emotional protocols most mechs are uploaded with. From a technical standpoint, they both love and hate, but there are secondary protocols that prevent the intensity from exceeding what a normal mech would describe as like and dislike. Jazz loves and hates because he's edited his own protocols so often he's destroyed the limiters. I expect Black Echo had something to do with it too, but I can't prove it. His team did a _lot_ of programming work on Jazz to turn a free-will pleasurebot into one of his best agents. If I have to reformat him, he'll still be able to love you. I couldn't do that to either of you. It's far too cruel."

"Just because he is able to does not mean that he will want to Ratchet." And there was Prowl's greatest fear surmised. He was sure that Black Echo had changed a lot of Jazz's programming, but he would never be able to forget the pride he had felt from Jazz when the silver mech talked of their relationship.

Of how Jazz had overcome the programming. How _he_ had _chosen_ to love Prowl, to ask him to bond, to accept the bond that had been offered in return and build it into a relationship. Even if he had the ability to be in a relationship, if all of his programming told him it was a bad idea, how long did Prowl have before his spark was at odds with core pleasurebot programming and driving him mad?

"What if he hates me?" Prowl asked, soft and sad.

"I can't make promises, Prowl," Ratchet x-vented reluctantly. "All I can do is give you the best chance I can." He locked optics with Prowl. "But understand this. I'm an old mech. I've been in good relationships and bad. I've left mechs and I've been left. There is _nothing_ in existence more attractive, more addicting, that the feel of another's love. He may not understand it, but he'll be drawn to it whether he knows you or not. As long as you love him, he's going to want to keep you feeling that way. It'll give you long enough to earn his love again. You've already got the most important thing down pat."

"I do?" Prowl asked, wanting to believe and praying that all of this talk was for nothing anyway.

"Prowl, you love him deeply and you don't want him to change his function," Ratchet smiled at him. "You really have no idea how lucky you are in having your first two relationships be ones this likely to work out for the best. Most of us have to try and fail scores of times before finding the right mech or two. Even then most mechs want at least a little change, some concession for them. Jazz is lucky to have you, that you enjoy his peace and joy at his function more than you want him for yourself. As long as you never resent his function he's going to fall in love with you again. It might not be the same backdrop of pride in a difficult accomplishment, but he'll love you."

Prowl nodded in agreement then sighed, a soft sound of surrender. "I still pray it does not come to that."

"Same here, but the least I can do is prepare you for it. I know that battle computer of yours likes to know what's going on," Ratchet said after a sip of high grade. "Have you ever talked about trying to kindle or request a sparkling?"

"With Jazz?" Prowl clarified, then shook his head. "It is not a topic that has ever been discussed, with the war. He mentioned designing a sparkling frame once, but I believe that was an attempt to divert my attention from focusing back on believing Soundwave deactivated."

"Most likely," Ratchet consented that one. He had no doubt that Jazz would say or do anything to keep Prowl among the functioning. Pits, the mech _did_ the almost unthinkable.

The Praxian gave it a moment's consideration, sensor wings finally stretching in a small shrug. "It is not something I would object to, if one of them desired it."

A small smile crept over Ratchet's features. "What are your desires after the war for the three of you?"

"To hopefully find a way to exist together." Prowl admitted. "I assume that Soundwave will return to his prior occupation, and Jazz will hopefully be free to define his functioning and please his programming as needed."

"And you?" Ratchet cocked his head. "What do you wish to do, to be?"

"I do not know." Prowl confessed, even though it was something that he actually had given some thought to. "I would not object to returning to my former job, or a position like it, if there is need of my skills. I was content there, in the beginning. If not I will seek a position where I am useful, to serve as I was meant to."

Ratchet hummed and accessed Prowl personnel file. "Given the number of cities heavily damaged ... pits, just putting _Iacon_ to rights will take half your remaining functioning. If you want to be a city planner when this is over, I know Prime would be thrilled to have your processors doing it."

"If he wishes I would pleased to help work on plans for the rebuilding. Or in any other capacity I would prove useful. I do not have to be a city planner- that is merely the occupation those who had my spark called placed me in. Any sort of occupation that requires organization, planning and analyzing satisfies my programming." Prowl explained, earning a chuckle from Ratchet.

"You'll have no lack of need for your skills," he promised. "Organizers have always been needed and you're _good_ at it. All three of you can easily settle anywhere too, from Iacon's Towers to the smallest village. A High Priest, rank five pleasurebot and planner of your caliber should be welcome and needed anywhere."

"Then it will depend on what would please Soundwave and Jazz, or whatever compromise they might come to." Prowl amended, hopeful. "The actual location makes little difference to me."

"As long as you can perform the function you were designed for," Ratchet nodded in complete understanding. "I really am looking forward to seeing the three of you together. It's so clear how much you love both of them, how much Jazz adores you, and I'm confident Soundwave wouldn't offer his spark to you in bond if he didn't feel you were worth every effort."

"Soundwave has made very clear how much effort he was willing to put into courting me." Prowl agreed. "And that he would wait as long as needed for me to bond with him. From what Ravage and Laserbeak said, I wish to believe he still desires me."

"You'll find out soon," Ratchet said gently. "Have you seen them interact much before?"

"Not with each other, until we had to create the cover that allowed me to defect and join the Autobots. They were civil at least, with a common goal to work towards."

"You've talked to them both, though, that you love and want them both?" Ratchet pressed, praying silently that he'd understood various previous nights well enough.

"Yes. I want, _need_, them both." Prowl struggled once more to find a way to explain. "I love them, both of them, equally. They are balance."

"Then at least there shouldn't be any real surprises, other than the usual for settling a non-trine triad," Ratchet hummed thoughtfully on his own situation. So different and yet quite similar to Prowl's. "Given they're both Intel, I suspect they know each other's files quite well."

"My understanding is that they have known each other for longer than I have been sparked." Prowl supplied quietly. "I am unsure of how my presence may have upset that balance."

Ratchet's optic ridge lifted sharply. "As in they've been _friendly_ for a long time?"

Sensor wings flicked, a sign that Prowl was unsure of an answer with the information he had at his disposal. "I never inquired that deeply. Soundwave indicated that he had known Korrës, trained with him, in the past. And that Jazz was someone he was familiar with from before the war. I do not know of any relationship between the two of them beyond a professional one."

With a hum Ratchet nodded his understanding. "Still, if they both know you want to bond with them both and they've known each other for that long, they must at least expect they can get along in a triad bond with you at the center. At the very least they'd know if they'd hate each other. Especially Soundwave with his telepathy, and Jazz is no slouch at judging a mech."

"Jazz informed me, before we bonded, that he had accepted the idea of me also bonding with Soundwave long ago. And Soundwave approved of my relationship with Jazz, and made it clear, before I defected. I know that neither of them were overly _pleased_ with the arrangement, but they were willing to accept it." Prowl twitched, stressed at the memories he had of both mechs, and the possessiveness from both of them.

"It's a good start, Prowl," Ratchet tried to reassure him. "It's a very good start. They're both dedicated to you. They can both tolerate the other. Most important of all, all three of you are being reasonably honest. It won't be easy, but they're both highly adaptable mechs used to pushing past boundaries and working out problems." He considered his empty cube before standing to get another. "Will you be staying for recharge?"

The Praxian hesitated at the offer, clearly tempted by the idea. It would be nice to not spend the recharge cycle alone, but when all he was seeking was a frame and field near his own, with no intention of offering anything but the same in return, it was not fair in Prowl's mind. "I will be very poor company."

"Like I am?" Ratchet snorted before grabbing two cubes of high grade and handing one over. "Sometimes Prowl, that desire to have a warm frame and trusted field is mutual. We are a social race." He settled back in his chair. "I haven't had anyone to hold in orns either, even if mine are safer than yours. The quiet company I trust would be welcome."

The cube was accepted and Prowl relaxed back in his own seat. "Then I would very much like to stay." He took a drink of the energon. "And thank you."

And the thanks was clearly for more than the energon.

Ratchet gave him an honest, warm smile. "You're welcome."

* * *

><p>There were reports, many of them. Reports of chaos, of the fall of Shockwave and a stronghold left in ruins with not a single mech stationed there left functioning.<p>

Black Echo would believe none of them until the mech supposedly responsible stood before him with proof in hand. He knew his agent was coming. Meister had actually decided to comm ahead and tell him. The unusual courtesy just put the SpecOps commander more on edge.

Meister didn't do courteous.

"Hey there boss," Jazz's voice still managed to catch him off guard.

Sharp optics studied the silver mech now standing before him, processor working furiously to make sense of his immediate circumstances. After the last time he had not expected Jazz to be able to lock the Meister profile back up himself. It took a couple nanokliks, but he caught it. The slight difference in the EM field, the inflection of the words. Meister was damn near flawless, but Black Echo knew Jazz _intimately_ well. He'd made a point of it.

"Jazz," he lifted an optic ridge, playing along for now. "Are the reports accurate?"

"Yap," the silver minibot grinned and unsubspaced Shockwave's severed helm. "Taken live and preserved so his memory cores are mostly intact."

"Flawless, as usual." Black Echo conceded. "You can leave it for analysis. Whatever we can retrieve from it will doubtless prove invaluable. Then we can debrief you and you can be on your way."

"Sure thing," 'Jazz' nodded and stepped close to place it on Black Echo's desk.

The Special Operations commander didn't sense it coming, didn't even _feel_ it at first. Only the sudden flare of gleeful malice in the field against his warned him that his most difficult agent, his monster, had finally turned on him.

With an energon blade in his abdomen, he was a dead mech walking ... or rather staring.

Only pure luck or extreme skill would have landed a blade there, guaranteed to end functioning in nanokliks, and the dying mech knew exactly which one it had been as he stared.

He should have seen it coming. In fact, he had. But he had dared to play the odds one last time, and the odds had finally tipped in another's favor.

"Any final words, _Master_?" Meister hissed in his faceplates as Black Echo dropped to his knees.

"Pit take you." The fading mech growled in return, a final act of defiance that both knew meant nothing in the end.

The final sounds Black Echo was aware of was the gleeful laughter as Meister licked his blade clean in front of him

The ancient monster grew ever more giddy as his prey extinguished. He fed off the death in his own way, the fleeing spark energizing him in a way no high grade could. The cries of denial of his host, the pain the little mech felt at their former master's demise only fueling his desire.

"Now, for Prowl."

* * *

><p>The feeling of being abruptly pulled from recharge without the alarms that usually accompanied the panic boot-up was disorienting and took Prowl's processor an extra nanoklik to sort through. For the first time in several orns had he had decided to try recharging on his own, the time spent in close proximity to Ratchet having done a great deal to soothe his spark.<p>

Finally everything was online and functioning, giving Prowl a start. "Jazz?"

"Yes, lover," his mate's voice purred, but it wasn't _right_. The field accompanying it was even worse.

His optics powered up, focusing first on the silver mech straddling his hips and leaning forward.

"Like my returning gift?" the stranger in Jazz's frame asked, drawing Prowl's attention to the object on his chest.

"What-" For a moment all Prowl could do was stare at the lifeless helm resting on his chestplates, oozing energon onto him. Soundwave's dull visor looked him in the optics. "Jazz-"

A closer look, a brush of dark field against his own, and Prowl tired to struggle, desperate, only to find that his vocalizer and optics were the only parts of him that would respond. "You, not Jazz. Where-"

"Still in here," Meister promised with a malicious grin. "I intend to make him watch me destroy everything before I finally purge him and claim his spark as my own." He leaned forward and claimed a hard, unloving kiss. "You really should have agreed to my terms, Prowl," he whispered seductively with their lip plates only a fraction apart. "Is a frame of my own really so much to ask for?"

"You hold my bonded hostage." Prowl answered, still trying to fight, to force him limbs to work around whatever block the dark, twisted presence had forced on him. "You-" His optics traveled to the severed helm in a moment of rest, spark constricting all over again but refusing to believe yet.

"You do this and ask me that question, and expect what? Sympathy? Agreement?"

"Neither," Meister smirked down at him. "I just want you to extinguish knowing you could have prevented that," he pointed at Soundwave's helm. "Prevented what I'm going to do to you, and to the pleasurebot currently locked away, awaiting my pleasure to purge him from existence."

Anger flared in Prowl's optics, anger at himself and at the monster over him, smirking at him as he searched for some way to fight back, searching among his comm frequencies only to find the entire system off line. No help would come that way.

"You are delicious angry," Meister cooed and ran his hands down Prowl's chassis in a mockery of a lover's touch until he reached the thin, sensitive metal covering spike and valve. "I wonder. Are you just as delicious in pain and violated?"

Without waiting for an answer Meister drove two sharp clawed fingers through the valve cover to rip it off.

For a moment Prowl felt helpless, lost, as his spark started to doubt. He did not fear the moment, what Meister was threatening to do with him now. He feared afterward, when the monster was finished with him and ready to move on to other targets.

Friends, comrades, mechs that Prowl had come to care for on a personal level.

Pain- he could still feel that- flared through him at the damage, but if the monster had hoped for a reaction he was left wanting. Meister himself had removed Prowl's ability to flinch away from the violation, and after all this time the Praxian's control over his vocalizer was near perfect.

"Yes, you do," the silver mech shivered in delight before extending his spike - one that looked very little like Jazz's. Meister made sure his was decorated with small spikes, just enough to _hurt_, but not enough to ever kill. "So very good," he actually moaned before driving himself into the dry, unprepared valve.

Pain unmatched in battle or training tore through Prowl, distracting his processor from his attempts to plan, to find some way to stop this all. Optics flared in response before Prowl could stop himself, giving away more than the Praxian wanted to his attacker. His vents cycled to a higher setting, automatically responding to his distress as the creature on top of him began to thrust.

Their fields pressed against each other. Meister's attempting to weave with Prowl's.

The attempted sharing finally gave Prowl something else to focus on, to fight against as he pulled his own EM field as close as he could, locking it down into a barrier and refusing to willingly blend with the darkness all around him.

It was defiance, but it was all he had left at the moment, the only thing he had to offer to remind himself that he wasn't going to give up yet.

Soundwave's helm was suddenly knocked off his chest, giving Meister the room to lean forward and lick Prowl's throat. "I know everything he does about you. What you like, what gets you off, what causes pain like no other," he added, reaching out to slide sharp claws along one wing, catching and snapping a few select wires. "I know you as well as he does," he added with a hard thrust, rolling his hips to scrape the spikes along every surface of the valve now slick with oozing energon.

If Prowl could have shaken his head he would have in denial and mockery of the mech above him. "You'll never know me as well as he does." He hissed, thankful as additional protocols finally initiated and redirected more of the pain, even as the damage warnings started to come in fast enough that the time stamps were stacking them on top of each other.

Against his spark he felt a small, careful pressure and _very_ familiar presence silently asking him to drop the block they'd put in place.

Prowl diverted enough of his attention to actually look at the pressure, to feel the presence, before he pulled the block down with a prayer.

Jazz, his love, flooded into his spark with relief and raw terror.

~So sorry. So sorry I'm not strong enough. He wants to live too much. I couldn't stop him,~ Jazz was all but babbling. ~Killed Black Echo,~ he sobbed quietly. ~Going to kill you. I don't have the strength to lock him away any more.~

Prowl's first priority became calming his mate, to the exclusion of everything else. Love, unconditional and all encompassing was pushed at Jazz. ~Can I help you? Can _we_ stop him?~

~Worth a try,~ Jazz's awareness flickered, the strain of reaching outside the mental prison beginning to show. ~He's going to kill us all if he's not stopped.~

Prowl latched on to his presence, offering whatever strength and help he could. ~Tell me what to do.~

~Hardline would be best, but ... just give me strength to force him down,~ Jazz struggled to explain something he only half understood. ~He's just another profile. He _has_ to be.~

Finally something he could work with, and Prowl's battle computer went to work, stopping on Jazz's words. ~Do you know how he is planning to finish me?~

~He'll break your frame, make you suffer as long as he can, then he'll hardline to tear your apart from the inside out,~ Jazz could barely get the words across. Most of it came as memory-images of Meister's work. ~He'll make you beg, no matter how long or what he has to do.~

~Can you hold on until he makes the hardline connection? Could we put him down then?~ Prowl asked, struggling to keep connected with Jazz through all of the other input demanding his attention. ~I can start begging as soon as there is a convincing opening if it will cause him to think I am breaking faster.~

~Yes. Yes. Yes,~ Jazz gasped out as the strain became too great and he faded from Prowl's awareness, back to his prison.

Sure of what he needed to do now Prowl dug into his own code, making hasty edits that would have made Ratchet cringe but not caring. If he made himself crazy maybe at least there was a chance he would take the other mech with him when Meister got around to making the hardline connection.

Edits worked to his satisfaction, Prowl braced himself and fell back into the external world, allowing what Meister was doing to wash over him full force, his attention refocusing externally on the monster with him. It was a chaotic jumble of sensations; the warmth of a beloved frame against his, agony from his valve, pleasure from his throat and wings, the pulse of his bonded's spark so close to his own.

A whimper escaped Prowl, not pleasure but response to the pain from his valve and from the pain of having his bonded so close and not being able to touch him in any way that mattered. It seemed enough to encourage Meister, as the mech shivered and moaned before lifting himself. Prowl could feel the charge building in his rapist, the frame responding almost exactly as Jazz's did even if the mech inside was very different.

"So good," Meister moaned, his field flicking out to push against Prowl's with the complement as he began to roll his hips and thrust harder. "Be a pity to kill you. You wouldn't believe how much Jazz is hurting at watching this."

"No." Prowl whimpered, wishing there was a way he could spare his bonded this and knowing that there was no way that Meister was not going to use every tool he had as his disposal to bring pain to others. "Leave him."

Begging, pleading, if that was what it took to save Jazz Prowl as not above it. Encouraging Meister to abuse Prowl and his frame in an attempt to end this as quickly as possible.

"You're both so cute, more concerned for the other than what you know I'm going to do to you," Meister grinned, then moaned as his optics went to half power in bliss. "It's almost a pity you won't watch Cybertron burn."

"Your doing?" Prowl hissed around the pain burning through his frame.

"Of course," he smirked down at his captive, relishing the screams inside, in Jazz, almost as much as the pleasure this frame gave his own. "It's what I do, tearing mechs into little pieces. Cybertron's just the biggest mech of them all."

"Monster." Prowl managed, optics going dim as more energy was shunted by his edits and diverted to critical systems.

"Ancient," Meister chuckled, the sound rolling into a moan, then a roar as he overloaded hard. Transfluid shot into Prowl's valve, the heavy charge and heat of it sending a fresh wave of agony and more warnings as it oozed into his internals from the shredded valve walls.

The groan this time was a true sound of agony, an admission of how much pain Prowl was in, optics blacking out completely. He was barely aware of the pleased purr above from, the pain in his valve as Meister withdrew more warning than sensation.

When sharp, killing claws drove into his chest plate's seam and began to tear them open, and it pulled a cry from Prowl, helpless denial in the sound. He could _feel_ the excitement Meister didn't hide at his reaction. With Prowl's chest torn open Meister took a moment to simply enjoy the bright spark he would soon extinguish. Not before he'd _destroyed_ the mech it supported, however.

More claw-work, relatively delicate this time to reveal Prowl's hardline ports. It was easy enough to wire into a mech, but the ports sharpened everything. The blue and gold spark pulsed, swirling and flaring as he worked and brightening as he touched the access ports, the mech it gave life to offering another groan.

"So pretty," Meister chuckled and plugged in, onto to find his frame lock and processors shut down as a viral code slammed into him with a burst of power. The last thing any of them were aware of was the signature on it: Black Echo.


	38. Reclaiming Life

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R for mech/mech and themes  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Slash, Spark  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p><strong>At All Costs 38: Reclaiming Life<strong>

* * *

><p>Ratchet came online abruptly and swore, shaking his berthmates from recharge as well. Two sets of dim and not yet fully functioning optics settled on him, openly confused as the medic struggled to untangle himself from what had been a very comfortable recharge arrangement.<p>

"Who's critical?" Skyfire asked, his Seeker heritage booting him to a functional level first, though not by much.

"Prowl." Ratchet growled, finally freeing himself as his lovers helped. "I knew it was a bad idea to let him recharge alone tonight. Pit spawned SpecOps mechs and their monsters."

Skyfire's engines rumbled, his armor rattled slightly in agitation as he stood to join the medic. "You aren't going alone."

"I won't be alone. Keepsafe is already on her way, back-up in tow. And if that isn't enough ... we might be doomed anyway." Ratchet wasn't entirely sure what he was going to find, but he was sure that he was not going to like it. And if he wasn't going to like he didn't want to expose his lovers to it either.

"Ratchet's a better fighter than either of us," Wheeljack reached out to grab Skyfire's arm and allowing Ratchet to stalk out of the giant flier's berth room. "Let him do his job without us hovering."

It didn't take Ratchet long to reach Prowl's quarters, his alt mode's sirens clearing the corridors and his wheels making short work of the distance. He skidded to a stop and transformed before the open door to stalk in just behind the guards. Keepsafe entered at his side.

"They should both be in medical stasis," she commented, her optics and frame language all SpecOps.

"I don't like it when you use the word 'should'." Ratchet growled, scanners already on their highest settings to draw in any information around him. "And where's Echo? This is his mess."

"He was Meister's first stop," she said grimly. "Mirage is the temporary CO but he hasn't been fully briefed yet."

Their first sensor reports from the berth room told them the trap she'd set and Ratchet had checked had worked as planned. When he stepped into the room, however, his spark clenched and battlefield protocols kicked in. Jazz ... or what looked like Jazz ... was straddling Prowl's battered frame and locked in place with a vicious looking spike still pressurized. The berth between Prowl's spread legs had a small but growing pool of energon and transfluid. The Praxian's chest plates had been ripped open, light from the exposed spark chamber flickering enough to catch the momentary attention of all present. Ratchet was distracted enough by already trying to evaluate the Praxians condition he didn't see the object on the floor until he tripped over it.

Looking down, it took a moment for what he was seeing to sink in as he identified what appeared to be Soundwave's lifeless helm. "Good for nothing no-sparked twisted fragger. Of all the things to torture him with-."

Growling once more he glared at Keepsafe, waiting for her to confirm that it was safe to approach the two mechs on the berth, no matter how badly he wanted to get to Prowl. "Any other surprises I need to know about?"

"You put Prowl back together," she said firmly as she stalked up to her miscreant patient and plugged in to confirm his status. "I'll deal with Meister. He's not going to have a frame again for a long, long time. Yes, I'll inform you if I can't salvage Jazz in the process."

Ratchet flinched, watching as they separated the frames and wondering what kind of mess he had on his hands. As bad as it looked, he already knew that he could repair Prowl with relative ease. The majority of his apparent damage was in his valve, a module that was not too difficult to simply replace.

What scared him was the potential state of Prowl's processor when it was time to bring him out or stasis. How much recovery would he be in for, even if Jazz survived? These kinds of assaults were always brutal in the fallout.

* * *

><p>Keepsafe, Mindwarp and Back Shadow all slumped the moment they disconnected from the large, powerful supercomputer used to shuttle the most difficult profiles between mechs. Only this time it was to secure and lock away the rogue personality for its trip to the Detention Center and hopefully a very long stay without a frame.<p>

"I'm going to run one last scan, but you two go get some recharge and celebrate," Keepsafe looked at her cohorts wearily. "We just saved our commanding officer."

"You need recharge too," Mindwarp pointed out.

"I will, as soon as I'm sure he's safe to deliver to Ratchet and Prowl," she promised as she walked over to an energon dispenser and poured a cube. "Their sparks know the time even if they don't."

She felt them nod and leave before she returned to her work. The computer was sure, but _she_ needed to be as well.

The certainty of a hardlined spark merge with her full medical protocols searching for any trace of Meister in his systems.

* * *

><p>::Ratchet, is Prowl repaired?:: Keepsafe commed him in the middle of his shift almost two full orns after they'd been summoned to Prowl and Jazz's quarters.<p>

::As much as I can do for him in stasis.:: The medic answered, glancing back at the frame still resting in the private room he had just left. ::His frame is fixed, but I still have no idea what we are looking at for the state of his processor, unless you have learned something from trying to clean out that profile.::

::The good news is that the upgrades worked exactly as designed. Meister never got in. There's still the psychological damage from the assault, but really I called because I'm ready to bring Jazz up. Only one thing- He's going to have _very_ limited memories of what happened while Meister was in charge. Prowl needs to understand that.::

::Out of everything that could be wrong, I think that might be the easiest thing for him to deal with. Which one did you want to bring online first?::

::You know Prowl better, but if he can handle coming on line first I think it would be best,:: she said just before the medbay doors slid open for her and the hover stretcher obediently following her. ::Jazz remembers just enough to be utterly terrified Prowl will reject him over what happened.::

"He won't. If anything he is going to come out of stasis ready to do battle for him." Ratchet warned, stepping closer to scan the minibot frame on the stretcher. It was a relief when he scanned as fully his normal frame and in good repair. Spark frequency normal, energy levels good, all systems as they should be.

"Good to know," she nodded as they headed for Prowl's private room. "The sooner we bring them around, the sooner they can begin putting things to rights between them. You got the memo that Jazz is now the Head of Special Operations?"

"Yes." And while Ratchet had his own opinions on the matter he was curious. "What do you think?"

"He's been groomed for it," she spoke softly, her touch along Jazz's face and forehelm tender. "He's no Black Echo, but he's made hard choices. He wouldn't have the position if we didn't believe he could do it well."

Ratchet nodded, actually agreeing with her. "Ready for me to bring him around? He's going to come out of stasis a little off."

"Yes," she nodded, her fingers still on Jazz even as she was focused on Prowl, ready to get out of the way if the Praxian decided she was a threat.

"I loaded a special boot sequence for him, one that will hopefully force him to stop and listen before he tries to act." Ratchet explained as he unhooked Prowl from the machines running his systems for him and stepped back to monitor the Praxian. "For someone who relies so heavily on logic and reason he tends to come online ready to act first and think second."

"Decepticon survival sequences," Keepsafe shrugged.

Another soft hum started in the room, the sound of systems in perfect working order coming online. The first visible sign of life was dark optics coming to life, the owner scanning the room as the rest of him struggled to catch up.

"Before you start to panic, Jazz is fine. Look for yourself." Ratchet instructed, tapping his own chest over his spark as a clue in case Prowl wasn't functioning that well yet.

Visible tension drained, at least somewhat.

"How much does he remember?" Prowl asked shakily as soon as his vocalizaer came online, his spark pulsing happily at the normal feel of it's mate so close.

"Most of his functioning," Keepsafe smiled. "The past few decacycles where Meister was running things are going to be fuzzy and largely missing. Also, for what my word is worth, Soundwave is functioning fine."

A soft vent of relief escaped the Praxian as his motor functions came back to full working order, allowing him to sit up slowly. "And the profile?"

"Gone." Ratchet told him, glancing at Keepsafe for confirmation just to be safe.

"Safely in storage," she agreed. "He's not in Jazz anymore. If you're able, it would do Jazz a lot of good if you held him while he booted."

"Where do I need to be?" Prowl asked, wanting nothing more than his bonded back in his arms, most of his attention locked on the still form of Jazz and ignoring the tickle of medical scanners checking him over again.

"Sit and get comfortable," Keepsafe smiled as he complied. With gentle strength she lifted the completely limp Jazz and helped situate him in Prowl's lap, their chassis angled so their sparks were as close as possible and Prowl could nuzzle his bonded's forehelm. "Just focus on it being safe and that you still love him, if it's true. He's still Ops. We tend to boot a bit on the aggressive side when we've gone down hard."

"Always true." Prowl murmured, already focused on Jazz, bond open and inviting on his end for the silver mech to feel as soon as he was processing again.

Ratchet oversaw the whole arrangement, moving equipment out of the way in the slim chance that something did go wrong with the boot-up. He nodded encouragingly at Prowl as Keepsafe stepped up and initiated the release from stasis lock.

For Prowl, the effect was immediate. Panic, fear, self-loathing, longing spilled across the bond as Jazz cycled up. Then a crash of _forgive me/so sorry_ as Jazz caught up with what he did remember. Slender clawed fingers dug into gaps in Prowl's armor as Jazz desperately tried to hold on through the chaos of a boot sequence gone horribly wrong.

Calm for the panic and fear, love for the self-loathing, and equal longing came with joy that Jazz was with him. Prowl allowed Jazz to hold him and held him tightly against his frame in return as Prowl hummed gently, trying to ease his bonded's confusion.

~Love you. Easy. Love you.~ Prowl murmured. ~There is nothing to forgive love, nothing to be sorry for.~

~I couldn't stop him from hurting you,~ Jazz trembled in his arms, pressing close as he began to relax into the spark to spark reassurance, his own love for Prowl bubbling up in response to the love sent his way. ~I don't remember much, but I remember him hurting you. I remember I couldn't stop him. Not when he killed Black Echo and not when he hurt you.~

~You tried. You helped me fight him.~ Prowl reassured him. A soft vent escaped him as he nuzzled at Jazz. ~I am sorry for you love.~

Sorry for the loss of the mech who had been a guide to Jazz, even if Prowl didn't think that he would ever be able to forgive the late Ops Commander for what he done to Jazz.

~Thanks,~ came the shaky reply before Jazz all but forced the tension to drain away. ~He was a bastard,~ he admitted quietly. ~But he was _my_ bastard ... as close to a creator as I ever had. I'm not ready to be a commander.~

Prowl nodded, understanding the desire for someone to look up to, to follow and mould yourself after. He held him close, support and complete belief in his bonded. ~You are. I believe in you. They believe in you. And I will do everything I can to help you. Whatever you need.~

~Just you,~ Jazz purred, shifting a little so he could run his hands along Prowl's chassis. ~Love you,~ he murmured as he stretched up into a kiss.

~Love you.~ Prowl answered, field reaching out to cautiously brush against Jazz's as he met the kiss, a small bit of the tension in his frame draining away at the familiar rightness of the field that welcomed his and wrapped him in adoration and devotion.

~Just please love, please don't hide your reactions,~ Jazz pleaded as he opened his mouth, offering rather than asking for more. ~I know more about recovery than I care to admit to. We have all the time we'll need.~

A shiver of shame ran through Prowl, shame that he was the weakness in bond when it was Jazz that had suffered so much. He pressed into the kiss, desperate and shaky at the reminder of recent events.

~Love, nothing to be ashamed about,~ Jazz murmured, insistent and determined even as his touch was gentle and undemanding. ~A monster wearing my frame hurt you _badly_. It'll take time to feel normal again.~

~Don't want to hurt you.~ Prowl admitted, fighting to not fold in on himself, to focus on Jazz. ~I don't want you to go without something you need.~ He nuzzled gently at the silver helm, finding comfort in the small act of affection.

~It'll hurt me much more if you hurt yourself trying,~ Jazz managed to hold firm even as his engine purred happily at the contact. ~I can get what I need from my function, love. You're more important than pleasure.~

Prowl vented softly, tension draining from his frame with the sound. He got Jazz's attention and pushed his field out again, asking for the closeness, another desire teasing at the edge. The response was instantaneous as Jazz welcomed the contact and wove his field with Prowl's as much as the larger mech wanted.

~Love you, Prowl,~ Jazz murmured across their bond. ~Share with me?~

~Please.~ Prowl asked, wishing for something that was still clean, untainted, the one thing that had sustained him through the pain and the fear. Chest plates parted before Jazz could touch him there. His mate responded immediately, chest plates parting and spark chamber spiraling open with a rush of desire to reconnect.

~Love you,~ Jazz moaned as their coronas touched, grateful beyond words that they still had _this_.

~Still yours. Always yours.~ Prowl answered. ~This is yours, whenever you want.~

He leaned back, drawing Jazz against him and sinking into the safety and warmth that was his bonded. There was no faking this, no way to fool his spark with Jazz's touching it, the proof he craved so badly.

~This is yours whenever you want it too,~ Jazz trembled as memories began to flood him. Ratchet's understanding and comfort in the lonely orns. Work filling the remainder of his on-line joors. The momentary joy at seeing Jazz above him that quickly turned to cold terror as the monster revealed himself and his intentions.

Through it all, Jazz resisted nothing. He took in what Prowl had experienced, accepted the pain, accepted the struggle it would be for them to move forward, and focused on nothing but to reassure Prowl that Jazz loved him and would be there for him in any way he was needed.

He received promise in return, promise that Prowl would be by his side and stand by him if Jazz would let him, to face whatever struggles might arise together. And that no matter what Prowl loved him, loved him whatever his form, and that even in the darkness he had never given up on his bonded.

He had learned that lesson the hard way already.

~We'll make it,~ Jazz gave words to their mutual oath before allowing himself to slide deeper into the merge, intent on taking it as deep as their bonding merge. He wanted to reaffirm their original vows even as he absently mused about the role of trauma in their relationship.

Prowl acknowledged the recurring theme as well, sad for a moment before moving on, focusing entirely on Jazz and renewing the link between them, filled with love and joy, both remembered and the now.


	39. Moving Forward

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Slash, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p><strong>At All Costs 39: Moving Forward<strong>

* * *

><p>A soft sigh as Prowl laid aside the last datapad, stretching sensor wings to work the accumulated stiffness from them before checking the time. Jazz would be done with his shift and returned soon, the minibot wasting little time returning to his mate still, after recent events.<p>

It had taken another orn after they were pulled from stasis before Ratchet and Keepsafe had released them from medical, and several more orns before Jazz would consent to leave Prowl alone in their quarters. The first shift alone had been tense. The second one stressful. This one much more tolerable.

He knew that it was little better for Jazz, though for very different reasons. Now that Jazz was the Autobot TIC and Prowl SIC, _Jazz_ could no longer function openly as a pleasurebot. He simply had far too much rank and too many duties. In private, he'd told Prowl he was grooming both Mirage and Back Shadow to take over as soon as possible, but it would be at least half a vorn before one of them was ready.

They were both looking forward to that transition. Prowl knew Jazz would be much happier and that meant he would be much happier.

In the meantime, they did their best to perform their duties. Duties which now had them working closely together more often than not. Jazz brought the intel that Prowl used to plan.

Over their bond, which had remained wide open since their first post-stasis merge, Prowl felt a cautious spike of excitement-unease. He reached back with a gentle curious prodding, but no real concern. There was no panic or fear accompanying the unease, more the sense that Prowl had learned over time meant that Jazz was unsure whether what had just been learned was going to turn into a good thing or bad, but at the moment was neither.

Jazz brushed back with affection and assurance. ~I'll bring it by shortly. You need to know this, CTO,~ he used Prowl's title teasingly.

~I am now properly concerned.~ Prowl pushed back playfully, thankful for whatever amusement they could find during all of the changes. ~I'll see you soon.~

~Won't be soon enough,~ Jazz purred before turning his focus to his much-despised work that took him so far from his function.

With a final brush of affection and support Prowl turned to his work, only his was work he adored. While he had never aspired to high rank, he was as good at this level of management as he was lower down. It felt good to work at something that made his core coding so content.

Such thoughts were still drifting through Prowl's processor when Jazz pinged that he was coming in.

Prowl settled for sending amused thanks along the bond for the 'warning' as he rose to welcome him mate, his contentedness from his work and the very recent orns of relative quiet carrying over to the rest of his functioning for once.

"Was it bad today then?" He asked once Jazz was inside, offering the silver minibot a chance to vent his frustrations at having to perform duties he was never intended for and had no desire to do.

The fact that Jazz pushed him, abet gently, to sit in his chair and climbed onto his lap for a long, need filled kiss before he spoke was all the real answer he needed.

"Different kind of bad," Jazz murmured as he let Prowl's mouth go and snuggled against his chest tightly. "It's good news for you." He put on a brave smile. "If the reports I'm getting are accurate, we should be hearing from Soundwave within the decaorn."

Prowl wrapped his mate in a tight hug, field expanding and beginning to weave into Jazz's, echoing the assurance, love and comfort that flowed across the bond, reminder that Jazz owned a part of Prowl's spark that was the minibot's, and his alone. It was enough to sooth Jazz's unease and relax him.

~Sorry, love. I _know_. Sometimes...~

~I know,~ Prowl stroked Jazz's back. ~You haven't had to share my attention in a long time.~

~Yeah,~ Jazz sighed and lifted his face for a gentle kiss.

"The takeover is going well then." Prowl finally murmured once they were settled again. "Or at least whatever chaos it is creating has been contained so far."

"It seems to be going well," Jazz snuggled in, his engine purring softly. "Starscream's been deactivated. Details are sketchy, but we both know it wasn't our doing. Not a battle and not a mission. The last base Megatron was known to be at is under a serious lockdown. Mirage couldn't even get in, and he said that they weren't trying to hit him when he was fired at."

"Both interesting bits of information, even if they actually tell us very little that we did not already know." Prowl commented, hands moving to run down's Jazz's back, gliding over sleek armor as he processed all that he knew and projected possible scenarios.

"It will be interesting to see who is appointed as the next Air Commander. Starscream's loss alone would have created a great deal of upset."

Jazz hummed. "If Megatron is down too, we've won. That was the plan, and one of the few reasons they lock down a base like that."

He refused to say what his Ops training made him think: _if_ Soundwave is still on our side.

"Then if we what you have heard it true, it is merely a consolidation of power before shaking everything up again. There have been so signs of attack or intended aggression, beyond those few that we have already confirmed as rouge factions anyway."

Hidden deep in Prowl was the barest hint of new hope coming to life that the war was finally over.

"Won't be soon enough for me," Jazz purred and stretched to wrap his arms around Prowl's neck and nuzzle his lover in the sensitive cords before giving one a playful lick. ~Feel like celebrating a bit?~

A shiver ran through Prowl. ~With you?~ He nudged at Jazz's helm until he could claim the smaller mech in a deep kiss. ~Yes.~

A burst of love/arousal/excitement rolled into Prowl's spark as their glossa dueled with no true interest in winning, only in enjoying the presence of the other.

When Prowl let him go, Jazz scooted off his lap to kneel between spread knees. His hands found the seams in Prowl's upper legs while his glossa traced a tingling, erotic path around the edge of Prowl's spike cover.

"Jazz." It came out far more like a whine, optics brightening as his lover's intentions became clear.

"Yes love?" Jazz purred, adding vibration to the touch. ~Want to taste you so bad. Want ... please be okay with this.~

The cover slid away. "More than okay." Prowl told him, field and bond link reflecting the truth in the words. ~Love you.~

The relief-need that washed over Prowl from Jazz was almost too much as Prowl comprehended just how much Jazz had held back for his sake, waiting for him to be ready for physical intimacy again. Then the hot mouth closed around the exposed tip and a knowing glossa swirled around the sensor rich cone and most of Prowl's ability to think was stolen by the demand to _feel_.

A brief moment of sorry and apology from Prowl, a struggle for him for Jazz's sake before his focus was redirected, hands coming around to tease sensor horns and silver helm as his spike pressurized eagerly in response to such need.

Jazz was the first to moan in pleasure, open and unadulterated at the slide of a pressurizing spike past his glossa and down his intake. Beyond how giving pleasure made his deepest core code thrum in pleasure, this was an act that _Jazz_ was utterly and unrepentantly addicted to. Second in desire-satisfaction only to being pinned and spiked hard until hot transfluid filled his valve to overflowing.

~Jazz...~ Willingness, pleasure, a want to make his mate happy while enjoying what was being given. ~Love you. Want this. Please.~

Happiness burst across the bond, pure and full of pleasure. Then that familiar feeling when Jazz fully focused on what he was doing. Every touch was enjoyed, but the greatest pleasure was anticipating the rush of transfluid into his mouth and the storm surge of energy and sensation Prowl's overload would bring him.

Every sensor node and point was explored, treated and treasured as much as the first time Prowl had allowed him to do this.

It was everything that made Jazz truly happy.

And everything that made Prowl happy was the feelings that filtered back through the connection, that it was Jazz, who Prowl _loved_, that was doing this.

Prowl enjoyed the physical pleasure, responded to it and shared it, but what meant most to him was the connection above and beyond that to the one who was doing it.

~For you.~ Prowl whimpered, hips rolling into the pleasure as it rose and pulled at him. ~Because of you. Love _you_.~

It was a dance and exchange they'd shared countless times over the vorns, both before and after bonding. Every time the high they reached amazed them both and the love and amazement they felt at having each other never lessened. Jazz was past words, lost in a desire no less intense than the physical pleasure he was creating. He didn't try to understand why he enjoyed doing this so much, why the feeling of a thick spike sliding against his intake, his glossa, his lip plates, was so intensely erotic and satisfying to him. It simply was and Jazz was content that the mech he loved enjoyed it as well.

Enjoyed it to the point that already the Praxian was reduced to a quivering mass of need and want and pleasure, calling his bonded's name as he lost himself in the pleasure and overload.

Jazz moaned as the feedback and loose charge jumped to him and danced down his frame, enticing his systems to cycle up fully. The rush of hot, viscous transfluid into his mouth, across his glossa where he could taste the distinct chemical makeup of _Prowl_ was nearly enough to drive Jazz to his own overload. Close, but not quite. His valve cycled, the calipers and cabling tightening and loosened, wanting something to hold onto and rub against.

"Jazz." The tone was awed, almost reverent as Prowl recovered quickly, reaching out across the bond and shuddering as he was struck by Jazz's need.

A vibrating rumble passed through the Praxian, full of desire and lust for his bonded. Gentle hands tugged at Jazz's frame in suggestion until Jazz pulled back and Prowl lifted the smaller mech up and onto his lap, mouth claiming and tasting as his hand brushed over valve cover.

~Yespleaseyesyesplease~ Jazz could only keen his need as the cover slid open, spilling lubricant over Prowl's fingers and driving his valve to new levels of desperate signaling for something, _anything_ to fill it.

Gentle fingers tested the valve for only a second before Prowl lifted him, claiming the silver mech's mouth in another kiss as thrust up. Sharp claws dug into Prowl's shoulders as Jazz cried out into his mouth and trembled.

Unabashed by his desires or his frame's desperate response to finally having a full valve, Jazz clung to Prowl and keened. His valve tightened and relaxed around the perfect slide of the spike as he was driven right to the edge of overload, only to hold himself back to enjoy the moment.

Strong hands dug into his hips, driving him down into each thrust, all of Prowl's attention focused completely on his lover, on his bonded, on the light in his spark.

~Love you. Yours. Forgive me.~ Prowl begged quietly, wanting to drive Jazz to bliss, to soothe that need, to be worth all that Jazz had suffered for him.

~Always,~ Jazz arched as he keened, surrendering to his bonded's efforts with a wash of affection just ahead of the blinding pleasure that tore through him and arced into Prowl's frame at every contact point.

Prowl's cries rose to join him, the affection and the pleasure from providing Jazz what he needed, washing over him and washing away so much of his pain and fear. He held Jazz tight as a shudder ran through his frame and he overloaded into his bonded.

* * *

><p>Prowl set his sensor wings and his faceplates in the professionally neutral set he was infamous for even as internally he was twisted in knots. Only Jazz could make him do this. Only love of Jazz could make him challenge the Lord Prime without even being asked too. A decaorn and a half and he knew he had to do something to protect his bonded. Jazz might be a good leader, might be skilled at inspiring mechs and getting them to do things, but his status as TIC was killing him, slowly and painfully. Jazz was simply not designed for administrative work as Prowl was, and the limitations on who he interfaced with brought the silver mech to a sobbing distress in Prowl's arms too often.<p>

This meeting ... went against everything in his programming that ordered him to please his superiors, that demanded his obedience and compliance with their wishes. In the past it was the sort of thing that he needed orders to make it so that his spark could handle it.

But there was something stronger than programming driving him now.

Love.

Checking his reasons, his arguments one more time, he requested permission to enter the office of his Prime.

As expected, the door opened immediately, for not only was Prowl second only in rank to Prime, but he was a friend in Optimus' words.

"Prowl." Optimus inclined his head in greeting. "What brings you?"

Prowl stepped inside, formal as the door slid closed behind him and sensor wings dropping respectfully. "Sir."

He looked into the optics of his Prime, and found himself answering the question honestly, just as he had every question since that first meeting. "Jazz."

Optimus leaned back before standing and motioning Prowl to join him in a less formal sitting area of his office. He remained silent as he offered a cube of good mid-grade to Prowl while taking one for himself.

"What about Jazz?" He asked smoothly as that sat down.

"Being Third is tearing him apart." And that was it felt like to Prowl over the bond, every time that Jazz chose the duty of his position over the desires of his coding and spark.

It was hurting Prowl too, Jazz's distress going beyond even what Prowl could smooth over, and suddenly the Praxian was stuck watching his bonded suffer because Prowl wasn't enough to counter it any more.

"He hides it well," Optimus considered his Second carefully. Prowl was the only mech that Jazz _couldn't_ hide such things from, and if it was bad enough for Prowl to come to _him_ ... "What do you suggest?"

"Replace him. Demote him. He won't fight it." Prowl sighed. "Spec Ops Commander he can handle, at least until there is someone better suited to the position that _they_ will follow as well. I will help him."

Golden optics locked on his Prime, pleading. "But the limitations being Third puts on him...he wasn't called for that job, and it's breaking him."

There was none of Prowl's logical reason that he had prepared in the plea. None of the argument he had put together to convince Optimus that he should listen. Instead he was sitting there spilling his spark to his Prime and praying.

"Who should I promote?" Optimus asked, more than half hoping that somewhere was the kind of _plan_ that Prowl had for everything. "The Special Operations commander has always been either Second or Third."

"Blaster could handle the paperwork and balance the social. Ultra Magnus, if Blaster will not accept. It would not need to be a long term appointment- Jazz is already grooming a replacement. It is just going to be longer than he will be able to handle it before Mirage is ready." Prowl vented softly. "He is looking for another Commander as well, but until then...he is my bonded and I am Second, by your appointment."

Optimus leaned back and considered the words, the offer, over several sips of energon.

"You are suggesting I officially do without a Third until Jazz finishes training his replacement?" Optimus asked thoughtfully. With almost anyone else, he'd be skeptical of the proposal. With any other timing he'd be worried. But he had it on good authority that the war was effectively over and the formalities would be settled soon.

There were good odds he wouldn't actually need a Third.

"Do without." Prowl agreed, something he had not actually considered but an idea that had potential. "Or demote Jazz and make it a temporary appointment, acting TIC, for someone else."

Sensor panels twitched as Prowl continued. "The paperwork, the forms and files and simple organizing, I could do that for him, without any of the strain he seems to believe it will place on me. It is the other facets of being TIC, the social restrictions it is placing on his functioning, that are wearing on him the most by preventing him from being himself."

Optimus hummed, thoughtful. He understood the pain of having to perform a function that was a poor match. He valued Jazz as a friend, yet he also knew that the war came first.

"Have your heard from Soundwave yet?" He asked gently. "I would be happy to free Jazz of his non-primary function duties other than training a new Head of Special Operations, however, I must know that I will not need his skills again soon."

Prowl flinched, not quite managing to hide the motion. "We are waiting-," He could bring himself to admit in Jazz's case doubting, "But there has been no word yet. There has been little activity at all that we have been able to observe."

Optimus nodded, fully aware of the quiet on the Decepticon front and Jazz's take on the reason.

"His skills would be yours as needed- missions, planning, executing runs- it's not that position that is hurting him," Prowl added.

"How long does he believe it will take to train his replacement?"

"A vorn at most. The replacements he has in mind are already competent, just without the fine tuning and 'extra' the position requires. And he does not intend to simply dump them into the role as he was."

His bonded's distress at waking to find himself the new commander of Special Operations, and then being promoted to a position of high command several orns afterward, had shaken Jazz's world far more than he let on to the outside world and in ways that still haunted Prowl on occasion.

Optimus frowned. "I was under the impression that Black Echo had finished his training and upgrades."

"He did, sir," Prowl consented immediately. "It was just sudden."

Another nod. "I'll do what I can, and speak with Jazz," he stood and put a large hand on the Praxian's shoulder. "Thank you for bringing this to me. I knew Jazz hated admin work, but I did not know just how badly this change hurt him."

"I do not think anyone did." Not even Prowl, who had thought he knew him best. "Thank you."

More than officer to commander, it was the thanks of a friend who knew that someone was going out of their way to help. "If there is something-." Prowl stopped in mid sentence as his comm line when off, the tag urgent enough to get his immediate attention.

He could tell from the shift in frame of the mech beside him that Optimus was getting the same, or at least a very similarly tagged, call.

::Prowl here. What is it?::

::We have received a comm from the Decepticon Commander,:: Blaster's familiar voice rolled back along with his uncertainty at the change in title. ::He wants to speak with Prime, Prowl and Jazz.::

::Details?:: Prowl inquired, already getting to his feet to join Optimus in a swift walk from the Prime's office to the control center.

::None, sir. No visual, just a comm ping.::

Not surprising, but not informative either, as Prowl reached out to his bonded. ~Jazz?~

~On my way,~ the mech sounded a bit harried. ~I _hope_ that's Soundwave to surrender and not Megatron to gloat.~

It was an option that Prowl had not consciously considered, and one that caused his spark to twist as he did. ~As do I. You had no word of this before hand?~

~Base is still under lockdown,~ Jazz said reluctantly as he transformed on the move just outside the command center door to walk in with them. ~I knew something was up, but nothing of what.~

Blaster was waiting for them, obviously very unsure of what was going on as Prime and his officers approached, all of them serious. The others on duty were similarly uneasy.

"Open the channel," Optimus ordered.

With a nod Blaster complied, nodding again to indicate that the channel was open and that the connection was reading both ways. The main screen flickered, then cleared to Soundwave's features, mask and visor in place.

"Optimus Prime: greetings. Soundwave: controls the Decepticon army. Soundwave: would meet with Prowl to end hostilities."

The ripple of surprise that went through the rest of those on duty in the command center was obvious, not so much at the fact that Soundwave in charge but at the idea that he wanted to end the fighting and that he wished to speak with Prowl instead of the Prime himself.

Prowl waited, careful to have a mask of control firmly in place to deal with whatever had appeared on the screen. Now he waited for his Prime to decide how to proceed.

Optimus inclined his helm in understanding. "It is good to have you back, old friend," his voice rumbled through the room with the resonant power that was more Matrix than Optimus. "You have done far more than we had any right to ask of you, and performed well." He took a step back. "Make what arrangements you wish with Prowl."

Permission, acceptance, and no reason to care at the surprise that filled the command center still, Prowl stepped forward. "Soundwave."

"Prowl," Soundwave's voice faltered very slightly before settling once more. "Soundwave: would meet the Lord Prime and Prowl outside the gates of Praxus to settle the terms of peace."

::Is that acceptable, sir?:: Prowl asked quickly, not even trying to hide from Optimus how badly he wanted to see the host again.

::Yes,:: Prime smiled behind his battle mask as the Matrix gave a thrum of pleasure. They were an odd group, his most trusted officers, but no stranger than he was.

A dock worker made Prime.  
>A low-level city planner now Second in Command of the Autobots.<br>A pleasurebot now the Chief of Special Operations and Third in Command of the Autobots.  
>A host who became a High Priest, then the deepest undercover agent ever.<p>

Every single one of them sparked, not kindled. Every single one of them called forth to be nothing more than they'd been sparked as, yet each had risen to greatness without any desire for it.

"The location is acceptable. When do you wish to meet?" Soon was the answer that Prowl's spark wanted. It would have been much happier with 'now', but that was impossible, so it would have to settle for second best. "And what others terms are there?"

"Time: In three orns 07:00. Soundwave: would bring Decepticon Air Commander and witness. Prowl: would bring witness. Soundwave: requests that quarters be made available for six mechs for the negotiations in addition to Autobot needs." He paused slightly. "Soundwave: has missed Prowl greatly."

A shiver ran through Prowl and he felt Jazz brush against his spark with a warm support tinged with nervousness. "It will be done. Arrangements will be made." He promised quietly, confident that he could manage something, despite the fits Red Alert was sure to have over the whole situation.

The fits the security director was probably having already, Prowl amended to himself. "And ... I have missed you."

A confession in front of witnesses, but by now he was beyond caring.

Prime and Jazz were standing there, witnesses as well, and witness for everyone else that those who _mattered_ did not see the declaration as a betrayal. Jazz tucked himself against Prowl's side and hummed his approval. Despite the unease lingering inside, his bonded was making a very public showing of support.

"Meeting: in three orns," Soundwave said before the connection closed.

"Well, that answered who won the throw down," Jazz murmured.

"The Matrix is pleased," Optimus soothed Jazz's reflexive thoughts of ways it could be other than what it appeared.

Prowl reached out to Jazz as well, trying to gauge his bonded's reactions and letting him know that even after all this time he still trusted the host with all of his spark. That same response came back: overt approval, private unease that was half training and half personal.

He also worked to ignore all of the optics still focused on them in open shock.

"Back to work," Prime got them focused on their duties before focusing on Prowl. "Make whatever arrangements need to be made. Does Soundwave have a favored symbiot to contact you with?"

The Praxian held Jazz against his side, acknowledging the unease with love and the knowledge that it would need to be addressed soon, but not so soon that it overrode their duties.

"Ravage or Laserbeak are the usual ones, for several reasons." Prowl answered. "The accommodations should not prove difficult, once something is arranged to Red Alert's tolerance. There is also the need to decide who will accompany me as witness."

"I believe Ratchet would feel slighted if he was not at least offered the chance," Prime smiled behind his mask and guided his two top officers from the control room. "Do you have any idea why he chose Praxus?"

"Officially Neutral and it _is_ where Prowl came from," Jazz spoke up smoothly. "I don't know what the mech has in mind, but this isn't just going to be a surrender, I'm sure of it."

"And worried as well." Prowl prodded gently.

"I wouldn't be Ops if I didn't think of those things, and _he's_ Ops too," Jazz pointed out uneasily. He didn't _want_ to think these things of Prowl's love, but he _had_ to. Programming literally gave him no choice. "That much Autobot brass out in the open ... it's a pit of a target to pass up."

He x-vented. "It's not like Soundwave to make a production out of things, and this is going to be a production."

"It is a target, but he is not above putting on a show to make a point." Prowl argued, vivid recollection of how Soundwave had initially started to court him with a possessive display in the officer's rec coming to mind. "And only Ratchet and I have to meet him in person."

"As if that's not enough," Jazz grumbled, then physically shook his frame out as he forced his processors out of Ops mode. "Red's paranoid enough for everyone, but I have every intention of taking a couple snipers for cover."

"Jazz," Optimus focused the silver mech's attention with difficulty and nearly resorting to his Prime voice to do it. "Get the latest reports and join us in my office."

"Yes sir," Jazz nodded and darted off.

"Prowl, make initial arrangements with Praxus. I will handle the meeting hall."

"Sir." Prowl answered, taking a moment to focus himself back to the work at hand as well, no matter how much he wanted to contemplate the idea of finally being reunited with his missing lover. "I will speak to Ratchet before the orn is out as well, unless you would prefer for me to see if he can join us now."

"Given how not-fond Jazz is of him, I believe it's best he stay out of the next meeting," Optimus chuckled. "Do what you can in two breems and come to my office. I should have Jazz's perspective back by then."

"Yes sir." With a nod Prowl set off down the hall, researching who he needed to speak with via access of the main database and opening a comm line to Ratchet requesting the medics attention when he had a moment to spare.

* * *

><p>Exactly two breems later, Prowl found himself outside Prime's office door. He knew what was going on inside; his spark told him and so did common sense. Pleasure was the first language Jazz spoke. Whether you needed to settle him or get him to open up, a solid interface was how you did it.<p>

He pinged, knowing neither particularly cared if he saw, and was a touch surprised when Optimus responded with 'wait'. Then the serge of a spark merge hit Prowl. He had long ago learned to ignore the effect, but it still made him want to grab Jazz at the first opportunity and bury his spark deep inside his mate's.

The charge of Jazz's overload was still tingling through the bond when Prime signaled the door to open.

The sight of Jazz pinned to the wall, visor dim in post overload bliss, was enough to calm the desire that had risen in Prowl to claim his mate back then and there. Instead he stepped inside and made sure the door closed and locked behind him, reading Jazz's contented humming over the bond and in every line of the silver mech's frame.

If Jazz was content then Prowl could be as well, and he pushed aside too the desire to have Jazz in his arms now that Prime was done relaxing him. Instead he watched as Optimus gently withdrew his spike and set Jazz on his pedes. He steadied the silver mech, then looked at Prowl with a clear order to collect his mate.

"It seems Jazz had a visitor when he went to his office," Optimus rumbled, his tone pleased as well as relaxed. "Ravage came to deliver what could not be said over the comm."

The Praxian stepped in, simply lifting Jazz into his arms and carrying him to the nearest open seat that would accommodate them both, and doing nothing to hide the frown on his face. Why would Ravage have gone to Jazz instead of him? Even on the move as he had been it would have been easy for the symbiot to get his attention and get him alone for a conversation.

With a mental shake he calmed himself and settled on the chair, Jazz in his lap and against his chest in a very familiar arrangement. If there was some sort of bad news neither Jazz nor Optimus would have been calm, would they?

~Soundwave wanted me to feel involved,~ Jazz murmured, his spark content after the Prime's attentions. ~He's going to propose, so he's asked me to set the terms, set the tone, in teaching you what's going to happen.~

~Terms?~ Prowl echoed, focusing on Jazz while letting enough of his attention remain on his Prime that he would know in an instant if either of them were wanted. For the time being Optimus seemed content to let them snuggle while he cleaned himself up.

~Yeah, what you're going to demand of him to accept his courting proposal,~ Jazz hummed thoughtfully. ~As your bondmate, I guess it's traditionally my right to make it as difficult as I want to for him to win the right to ask you to bond. Ravage made it pretty clear that giving you authority over him in his realm, ya know, the Decepticons, is the term to end the war. The rest is up to me. You can put any terms you want on it too, but we all know you won't have any.~

~No, I do not think so.~ Prowl murmured, ~The terms to end the war I understand. They are reasonable, so long as Prime is in agreement. Your terms...~

Prowl let that hang, holding Jazz close.

~Still thinking,~ he admitted, snuggling close and gently running his hands over Prowl's chest plates, soothing himself as much as his mate. ~I'm not going to make him miserable or set unreasonable demands ... but he gave me this _knowing_ I'm the one of us that has trouble sharing you like this. I'm going to use it.~

Prowl vented softly, but he trusted Jazz, and let that flow freely over the bond between them. He trusted Jazz to do what the silver mech needed to do. At the moment, he felt Jazz's desire to be reclaimed as knowing fingers played over Prowl's armor, teasing the large sweep of chest vents and shifting to rub their interface arrays together.

"Jazz." The silver mech's designation escaped his lover in a soft moan, the desire echoed in Prowl's own spark. Prowl spared a moment to look to his Prime, still conscious of their location and the reason for being there.

He wanted Jazz. Wanted to feel that spark against his own.

"Indulge," Optimus smiled with a low rumble of approval. "It does my spark good to be near bonds as strong and positive as yours."

~He's a voyeur, big time,~ Jazz giggled.

~Mine.~ Prowl purred as he captured Jazz's lips in a kiss, passionate and possessive. He would never deny Jazz his functioning, but he knew who the silver's mech's spark belonged to at the end of the orn.

~And he is my Prime, whose orders I obey.~ Prowl added, hands sliding down Jazz's back to work sensitive wiring buried in hip joints. ~I think I shall enjoy obeying this one.~

A moan and wiggle of pleasure was the most coherent reply Jazz cared to make as his valve, never completely dry to start with quickly began to ooze a fresh layer of lubricant. ~Love your touch,~ Jazz finally moaned as he managed to grip Prowl's shoulders and buried his face against Prowl's neck to lavish attention on the sensitive cables that did so much for his mate.

~To please you.~ Prowl answered, fingers reaching to tease at his bonded's valve, the sounds it earned him only serving to drive Prowl's own desire higher. ~Want you. Want your spark to be mine.~

Any shyness he might have felt at having an audience vanished with the touch to his neck, Jazz's ability to tease him just so a skill he swore was exclusive to the silver mech.

~Always yours,~ Jazz trembled at the touch, wanting more. He didn't hesitate to part his chest plates however, offering his spark it all its depth to Prowl, to the one mech who had _earned_ it. ~Everything I am is yours.~

Strong hands moved back to Jazz's hips, lifting him as the Praxian's spike cover slid away and the spike pressurized into the smaller mech's valve. Their moans of pleasure mingled with Optimus' deeper rumble of a very different kind of pleasure, a cleaning pleasure as he and the Matrix absorbed the purity of the emotions in the spark and bond filling the room to soothe away the harshest edges that war, pain and early deactivation of so many in his presence had created.

"More," Optimus' optics turned off and shuttered as he basked in the peaceful bliss of everything that was still right and the soothing balm it was to the Matrix.

Prowl's processor noted the order, but he didn't the need the encouragement as lips traced down his bonded's neck, hands moving to support Jazz's frame as he kissed along the chest plates and spark chamber of his bondmate. Determined to please and pleasure Jazz before reclaiming all of his mate and reminding Jazz just how much he loved him.

Deep rumbling moans, sharp keens and words that none of them bothered to process filled Prime's office, all centered on the silver minibot and what his Praxian lover was doing to him.

A deep, sharp gasp of air and Jazz screamed his first overload, one driven by the touch to his spark chamber. He was well past thinking. Only desires and sensations flowed from him, silently begging Prowl to thrust into him deep and hard, to spill his transfluid into Jazz's valve to set off a second overload tied to Prowl's release.

Motion joined sound as Prowl obeyed, holding his bonded as he reclaimed his lovers valve, the feel of the slick tightness around his spike a secondary focus to the pleasure rolling off of Jazz. This was perhaps the greatest gift of their bond; the ability to _feel_ the other on a level that made the physical secondary while enhancing it at the same time.

Neither of them cared that Prime had opened his chest plates or that he was stroking the Matrix of Leadership in his own kind of delirious bliss.

"So good," Optimus moaned through the waves of absolute loyalty-adoration-pleasure crashing into him from the couple he quite willingly admitted was one of the best things to happen for him since ... really, since he became Prime. Every other set of dedicated lovers were warriors to their spark. They were good, they helped, but there was always that edge of violence about them than the couple before him did not share. Despite the war, despite all they had done and been forced to become, both of these sparks, both _mechs_, were still inherently peaceful. Both were gentle with each other.

It was a bliss Optimus could so easily loose himself in.

The desire between them, desire for each other, was pure and unselfish wish for the other's happiness. Prowl's fingers wove their way into Jazz's hips, pushing him to overload so that Prowl could share in his pleasure.

A touch to Prowl's wings drove the Praxian to overload first, transfluid rushing into Jazz's valve and driving the pleasurebot into an overload of his own, one that made both his spark hum with contentment and his core code preen at the accomplishment.

All their concerns, from rank to existence, fell away as Prowl finally gave into his desire to blend their sparks, the Praxian initiating the merge with a moan of pleasure. After all this time both sparks were intimately familiar with the other, weaving together smoothly and elevating both mechs to a level of sharing and bliss reserved only for those bonded and in love.

Neither lover was aware of Prime's very different kind of overload as the Matrix purged a knot of pain older than Optimus and all three mechs sank into absolute contentment. Even as the merge ended Jazz and Prowl's sparks continued to dance and brush against each other, too pleased to separate completely and reflecting the desires of the mechs they gave life to.


	40. To Heal a Spark

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Slash, Sticky, Spark, Tactile  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p><strong>At All Costs 40: To Heal a Spark<strong>

* * *

><p>The Matrix of Leadership hummed and thrummed in his chest, at least as excited for this meeting as the black and white Praxian beside him. The Lord of Praxus was anything but happy to be hosting this, but he was not about to refuse his Prime, and Optimus couldn't particularly care if the royal was happy. The ruling class a large part of the problem he still faced.<p>

With a firm will Optimus turned his thoughts to the now. To Prowl, who was vibrating with excitement. To Soundwave, standing barely ten paces away and facing the love he had waited so long for. To Jazz, who had found his peace with the orn, even if it was an uneasy one for now.

He'd merged with each of these mechs, knew them deeply and knew how deep the devotion and love ran.

The road before them did not promise to be an easy one, and they all knew it. But it promised to be a good one, one blessed by Primus, and meant as an example of the way things _should_ be.

Proof against all of the prejudice that had been allowed to form and led to the system that had in turn brought about the unrest that had almost been the destruction of them all. Proof that a mech or femme could move beyond themselves with desire and drive.

And proof that love was not limited by caste or status.

The five Decepticon commanders behind Soundwave, including the new and untested Winglord of Vos, shifted uneasily at being so close with their weapons disabled. Even fully armed, every single one of them knew the odds of any of them making it out with their sparks was slim if things went bad.

Only Soundwave was calm.

The giant host, his symbiots all docked and transformed so their optics glowed brightly at the gathering before them, retracted both mask and visor. A simple act that caught all three Autobot guards by surprise when it registered that those optics where the pure white of a High Priest.

Optimus could feel the desire to kneel, to submit, in Ironhide. The aggression in the twins that was their was of dealing with contradictory desires.

It was Prowl that held Prime's attention. The shiver that passed through him, the wild anticipation only just kept in check.

As much as the Praxian simply wanted to fall into the embrace of the host and forget the rest of the world around them, to ease desire and need that had been building for vorns, this was something at the moment that was beyond just them, even if they were the catalyst.

Instead of giving in to what he wished, Prowl settled for what he could do. "Soundwave. We have come, as you requested."

The host visibly gathered himself, his field pulsed before he withdrew an object from his subspace. Smaller than Soundwave's palm, and the Matrix recognized what Optimus did not.

It was Soundwave's legal ownings; a formal record of his status, properties, servants and all fidelities and tithes owed to him. Created in the time before digital was completely accepted, it was still how inheritance was handled among the nobility and royalty.

Prowl's optics flickered in surprise. He'd known there would be a pledge of loyalty, but nothing like this. He felt the private smirk across his bond with Jazz and realized that his lover had known this was coming.

With no more hesitation Soundwave stepped forward and knelt, bowing his helm deeply before his love.

"Prowl. My spark has longed for yours since I called it forth," he spoke the words, forcing them out without his usual cadence as yet another sign that he submitted to Prowl. "Your bonded has granted permission to court you. As a token of my intentions, I offer you my sigil. Should we bond, all I am is yours to command."

There was time long ago that those words, and he meaning and truth behind them, would have reduced Prowl to a helpless mech. One struggling like so many around him to resist the urge to kneel before some his better and still in shock that it was a High Priest of Primus submitting to him.

But Prowl had changed. He could feel the support of his Prime and his _friend_. He could feel in his spark the acceptance of his bonded, and the support that was given out of love and of Prowl and the desire to see the Praxian happy. He had even grown in his acceptance of his rank; that he was a commander of mechs and of status himself no matter his origins.

Prowl took a step forward, hand covering Soundwave's in acceptance without taking yet. "Since we were parted mine has yearned to return to you. I accept, that when we bond everything will be made right."

At this range, Prowl could feel the flux and flow of Soundwave's field. The anticipation, the arousal, the intense desire to do more than kneel before the one he had fought so hard to protect.

~Prowl: Soundwave's love. Take the sigil,~ Soundwave pleaded.

~Sooner you accept, the sooner he can finish his part,~ Jazz prodded gently, knowing full well that Prowl was enjoying being this close to Soundwave.

Finally Prowl took the sigil, lifting it from Soundwave's hand reverently, feeling what little weight there was to it and privately amazed that something so small could be so significant. It took all his will not to moan at the thrill and desire pulsing in Soundwave's field as the host stood to face the Lord Prime.

"Optimus Prime: Soundwave's forces are the Prime's to command as we agreed."

"You have done well, High Priest Soundwave," Optimus' smile was easily heard in the rumble of his powerful voice. He stepped forward, retracting his own battle mask to meet his long absent servant as Prime and High Priest, rather than warrior to warrior. "Welcome home. Introduce your lieutenants."

While Prowl heard it all, knew each of these Decepticons by their profiles and most from personal experience, he allowed his battle computer to record it all, from who they were now to the exact terms of the cease-fire that would be officially in place while Soundwave courted Prowl. Unofficially, everyone knew, or was starting to piece together that Soundwave never really was a loyal Decepticon.

~Focus, lover,~ Jazz teased him, trying to keep him from drifting off too much. ~It's almost over. _Then_ you can jump him.~

~I know exactly where I am and what is going on love.~ Prowl answered, simple fact in his words and deep affection for his bonded. ~And you know I would not do that in front of everyone.~

No matter how much Jazz could feel that he wanted to. It would be enough just to be able to touch him again, with the focus mostly off of them.

~You didn't warn me that he was planning that.~

~I sorta did,~ Jazz hedged, though it was still in good humor. ~He wanted to surprise you, just a bit. I think he wanted to feel your honest reaction too,~ Jazz quieted, even across the bond. ~I don't think he ever anticipated that we'd bond, at least not before you two did. It's still a shock when I think back to what I first was ... to have come so far without loosing myself in the process.~

~Jazz ... you aren't planning to stay in our quarters,~ Prowl said as it dawned on him.

~I've had you all to myself for over a century,~ Jazz reminded him gently. ~You deserve a few orns together, just the two of you. Get caught up. Make sure it's still there for you. Make sure this is still want you want. What _he_ wants. Then we'll deal with the practical side of sharing you.~

~Jazz...~ There weren't words that Prowl could find for what he wanted to say. The love he felt for the mech who had given him everything, including a reason to live when Prowl believed there was none.

Thanks from the very center of his spark for the continued giving that Prowl did not deserve, asking so much of his lover and bonded.

~Love you.~

~Love you, Prowl. _My_ Prowl,~ Jazz felt the possessive desire flare inside him, but more than wanting Prowl for himself, he wanted Prowl happy. Learning to share him with another mate was an acceptable price for the love of a mech who asked so little of him. ~Enjoy his attentions. I'll be close if you need me.~

"Prowl:" Soundwave caught his attention as the group of twelve turned to walk into the beautiful city. "Jazz: location?"

"Watching." Prowl answered softly, not even attempting to try and pinpoint the exact location of his occasionally elusive bondmate. He fell into step behind Optimus but closer to Soundwave.

~Jazz: how difficult is sharing Prowl?~ Soundwave asked gently, very carefully keeping his contact to the uppermost layers of Prowl's thoughts.

~Very.~ Prowl admitted, having seen this fact many times during merges and knowing how possessive the smaller mech was of him when it came to a second _mate_. He'd encouraged Prowl to find casual lovers if any caught his optic, even though none ever had, but when it came to something serious, Jazz was entirely too against it. ~He has made arrangements to stay elsewhere for the next few orns.~

And Prowl was going to look into that as soon as he had a chance before he got settled in, determined to make sure that his bonded was going to be looked after.

~Prime, the twins and Mirage,~ Jazz answered the thought. ~Different methods, but equally good at keeping me distracted. I'll be fine, love.~

~It is very generous of him,~ Soundwave encouraged Prowl to send the comment along. ~As your bonded he has every right to keep us separate until the bonding is arranged. Ravage made sure he understood his rights as first mate.~

Prowl hesitated for a moment, then sighed softly to himself. ~Soundwave thanks you for your generosity.~

~Glad he appreciates it,~ Jazz replied, though there was less snarkiness than the words implied. ~I just want you happy,~ he murmured as Prowl was shown to his suite, one situated next to Prime's do to his rank.

~I am.~ Prowl answered Jazz, the sincerity clear in the bond as he nudged against the silver mechs spark with affection before returning his attention to what was going on in his immediate vicinity and felt the bond mute to nearly the level they used when Jazz was working.

~I will be back shortly, my love.~ Soundwave caressed Prowl's mind as he followed the servant to the quarters assigned to him.

He nodded understanding at Soundwave, knowing the telepath would pick up on the fact that Prowl would wait however long it took for him to see what he needed to accomplish done.

Prowl took a moment to settle the mute around his spark, the sensation of Jazz there and yet removed had never really been easy to deal with and still took a moment of adjustment on Prowl's part.

Finding himself still alone, Prowl took the opportunity to look around. Praxus had changed little in the time that he had been away. Neutral status had protected it from the worst effects of the war, and it was still very much as he remembered.

He frowned a little at another thought. Prime was going to have his hands full dealing with many of the neutrals once the peace was official. They were not going to welcome the changes he had in mind as those who had suffered through the war on a daily basis.

His thoughts continued to wander along that path, already picking out those who were most likely to cause trouble and devising ways to deal with the trouble. Or even better, head it off before it started.

The sensation of Soundwave's amusement drew Prowl from his thoughts.

~Should Soundwave give Prowl more time to plot?~

Amusement at his own expense from Prowl as he turned to greet the host. "I think there are better uses of my time now than devising plans for things which may never come to pass."

His optics swept over the host, taking in every detail and noting everything that he had not had the time to notice before. The symbiots had been left in Soundwave's quarters, at least for now, leaving the host with the unique appearance of full limbs and an empty chest, only the rib struts indicting he had also been freshly repaired from helm to pede. Not just freshly detailed, but repaired from heavy damage.

"Megatron: difficult to deactivate," he explained quietly.

Prowl nodded in understanding, stepping closer but not quite touching. They had all suffered from this war, the repairs before him just the most recent tangible reminder.

Finally his gaze traveled up to meet the hosts, no longer hidden behind the red visor. "But he is gone and you are here."

"Affirmative," Soundwave actually purred as he knelt to bring them close to optic level. "As is Prowl," he reached out to caress Prowl's cheek plates softly with a thumb, almost afraid it was an illusion before him, or he had extinguished in stasis and this was the Well.

It was enough to drive Prowl the rest of into the hosts arm, holding on to Soundwave tightly as the hosts ribs closed gently around him. "Missed you so much."

~Soundwave: missed Prowl greatly as well,~ he shivered faintly and closed his arms around his long-absent lover before picking him up to walk to the berth room.

The Praxian curled against him reflexively, field already reaching out to brush against the Soundwave's, remembering and desiring but unsure of what it was going to find. He was keenly aware of how much had changed in the time they had been parted, even if his love for the mech that held him was the same.

Desire flared brightly, wrapping Prowl in _want_ nearly as strong as Jazz's as Soundwave gave a sub-voc rumble of arousal and sat on the berth. ~Prowl: talk or pleasure first?~

Prowl stretched up to claim a kiss, hands already tracing along ribs struts in perfect recall. ~Talk later.~

He wanted this, wanted the images and the feelings and in his memory to be right and accurate. Wanted to feel that way again with Soundwave.

And he allowed all of that want to shine through, clear and unmistakable.

Soundwave groaned at the intensity that matched his own and returned the kiss with all the passion in his spark for the mech in his arms, in his lap. Without hesitation he extended several tentacles to stroke along Prowl's chassis and tease the seams while his hands went for Prowl's elegant sensor wings.

~Prowl: so beautiful, my love,~ he trembled with need to feel Prowl's pleasure and the hot flash of his overload.

Prowl moaned into the kiss, Soundwave's reach on his wings bliss in itself as hands stroked and teased at the sensitive plating and wires. There was nothing to compare this too as he offered himself willingly, wanting to be lost in the pleasure, wanting to please and to share.

~Love you.~ Simple truth and completely honesty. ~I never stopped.~

Even if he didn't deserve the love of the one holding him, Prowl had never stopped loving Soundwave.

~Prowl: deserves love,~ Soundwave said firmly. ~Prowl: deserves Jazz. Prowl: deserves Soundwave. Prowl: deserves _happiness_. Soundwave: blessed by Prowl's loved.~

Both frames trembled as the knowing touches drove Prowl's charge higher. Their fields intertwined, their minds nearly so, Prowl felt every sharp flare of ecstasy his own pleasure caused in Soundwave as the telepath immersed himself in the bliss that was Prowl's pleasure.

Prowl would argue later, but words were a secondary consideration to the Praxian now, perfectly content to be lost in the feel of lover's mind and their shared pleasure as overload washed through him.

Over him Soundwave's moan echoed, mingling with his own as the pleasure echoed between them. As Prowl relaxed, coming down from the overload, he could feel that Soundwave hadn't yet, though he was close.

~Prowl: spark?~ Soundwave's request was a plea.

The Praxians chest plates parted in offering, blue spark already pulsing eagerly and joyfully at being so close to a treasured touch denied far too long.

~Always.~ Prowl answered.

Soundwave stilled, staring and taking in the sight even as his chest plates parted. Slowly he leaned down, brushing their coronas as their mouths met once more.

~Love,~ Soundwave's spark sang across the new connection, along with the offer/desire to share _fully_; not just pleasure but also as many memories as Prowl wished.

~All of it is yours.~

There was nothing that Prowl wanted to hide from the large mech, except for perhaps his own shame when had given up on Soundwave without proof, and his grief had driven him to desperate measures.

But even that would be offered for the host's inspection, for his knowing.

He would not hide what Jazz had done for him. Would not hide the joy and light the silver mech brought into his life. But neither would he hide how much had missed Soundwave, or how much joy it brought him to be reunited.

It was all laid out for Soundwave.

In return, Prowl felt the host dismantle firewalls older than Prowl, revealing Soundwave's functioning in blocks of a thousand vorns or so, newest to oldest. The battle with Megatron. Taking over the Decepticons mech by mech through logic, fear, blackmail and flat out reprogramming so he'd be able to end the war once Megatron was gone. How badly he'd needed the support of his symbiots in the vorns Prowl had been with the Autobots. The deepening fears that Prowl would no longer want him.

~Always want you. Always need you.~ Prowl assured him as he accepted everything that he was shown without judgment, accepted the actions and reasons and never thought less of the mech before because of them.

Gentle redirection to how much Prowl needed the mech that balanced the rest of him, how slightly off Prowl had felt the entire time they had been apart and how everything was starting to even out once more.

Love and need that was unconditional, given without demand of anything in return save the unspoken plea that Prowl never be forgotten or left.

~Never!~ Soundwave spark cried in denial of the very possibility. ~Never, love,~ he trembled in agony at the very idea and poured his love, devotion and need out. Memory sharing drifted down to the subconscious level as the pleasure built to blinding levels.

It didn't matter which one of them fell first, the lines between them so blurred that as soon as one dropped into the bliss of the overload the other was there too. Pleasure, love, joy- it echoed between both mechs as sparks rejoiced at touching once more.

Prowl drifted slowly into awareness with a brush of affection from Jazz before the bond was muted once more. Then Soundwave's field, still woven with his own, claimed his attention. Contentment, pleasure, relief ... but particularly joy flowed over Prowl as he finished cycling up.

~Soundwave's Prowl,~ he trembled in joy at the words, at sharing them with Prowl.

~Hmmm.~ Prowl hummed softly, not completely processing yet as he basked in the joy all around him, pure happiness that appealed to his spark after the stress of fear.

Amusement and affection flowed between them at Prowl's state, as did Soundwave's small flush of pride at putting him in that state. Despite the growing physical arousal, Soundwave remained content to hold Prowl close and stroke him affectionately.

The Praxian purred, leaning into the touch as his spark sang. ~Missed this.~

~Soundwave, missed this as well,~ he murmured, all his affection and desire for Prowl's happiness and pleasure flowing with the comment. ~Prowl: desires energon?~

The Praxian stretched up, kissing softly at Soundwave's neck and face. ~If you have some, I would share it with you.~

A low rumble of amusement and flicker of a tease between their fields preceded Soundwave extending one of his larger tentacles for a cube of fine Praxian solar mid grade for them to share.

"Prowl: drink," Soundwave said gently but firmly.

Prowl snuggled around until he was comfortable before accepting the energon and purring with appreciation. While the Autobots had never really lacked for quality energon and the faction was home to some of the best home brewers, energon like this had been a rare treat. Making all the more special for having it now.

Another sip and Prowl held it up, offering to share with his lover.

Soundwave accepted the cube and savored it, his pleasure much higher than Prowl at the slide of such quality energy across his glossa. Even as the Decepticon TIC and a mech with blackmail material on almost everyone, he rarely enjoyed such a treat.

~Prowl: prepared to deal with Meister's injury?~ Soundwave asked gently, pressing the feeling that Prowl was free to say no.

A faint shudder ran the length of the Praxian's frame at the recall of memories that he still danced illogically around whenever he could, choosing to focus rather on the fact that Jazz had returned from that final mission safe to him.

A moment then to gather himself, reaching out through still twined EM fields that calmed his spark and his processor with the reminder of who he was with.

~Yes.~

~Prowl: _desires_ to deal with Meister's injury?~ Soundwave asked, offering as much support as he could.

No. No, Prowl did not want to relive that pain. But it was holding him back, something that he refused to allow to continue. It had, was still, causing Jazz distress. With Soundwave he believed he could face it, could move forward.

He offered that, his trust and belief in the host. ~With you.~

A small nod of understanding and Soundwave stroked him gently, soothing the stress away. Gently, ever so gently, he wove his mind into Prowl's, providing both support and driving force to delve into the pain, to understand it, and, they hoped, to banish it.

The first thing Soundwave prodded for was whether the pain centered on Jazz or on being penetrated.

It was not around Jazz, Prowl's spark knew his mate and knew that Jazz would never subject him to something like that. It wasn't even the physical act, though it was tied far more closely to the pain. It was the idea of being helpless once more, being taken against his will, of all of the potential loss with that memory and the mental and physical pain that was associated with what had happened.

Soundwave considered all the angles for several long kliks, taking the memories apart in his own way and with the knowledge of one who used the technique to help break more than his share of prisoners.

~Option: removal of memory and linked files. Option: enough experience to bury the memory.~

Prowl leaned into the mech, considering the options that he had been presented with. The idea of loosing his memory, any of it, with how his processor and battle computer worked, was deeply disturbing.

The alternative would not be entirely pleasant, at least initially, and would even though it would leave him with his memories it could take much longer.

Finally he vented softly as Soundwave continued to stroke him. ~What would you do?~

~Meister: no longer a threat. Soundwave: would remove Prowl's memories of that pain. Removal: quicker, cleaner, more realizable, less painful.~

Prowl quivered, still uneasy with the idea, but- ~I trust you.~ Permission, as much as he could manage.

~Prowl,~ Soundwave tipped his face up, forcing Prowl to meet his optics. ~Memory removal: _easier_ option to Soundwave. May not be _right_ option for Prowl.~

~I do not like the idea of forgetting, even that which was unpleasant.~ Prowl admitted. ~Help me...bury it instead? Make it so that I do not recall _that_ when I am with those I love?~

~Soundwave: would be honored,~ he murmured and kissed Prowl gently as the half-finished cube of energon was placed on the berthside table. ~Prowl: desires control or to submit?~

To submit was to give up a degree of control, but that was how Prowl was by nature when it came to personal relationships, and in this it was by his choice.

~Submission. Remind me that it is good.~ He begged quietly.

A heady rev of Soundwave's engine greeted and answered him, as did the flare of desire in Soundwave's field. It was brought quickly under control, but it was enough to tell Prowl just how much his lover desired him and enjoyed his submission tremendously.

~Soundwave: is honored.~

A gentle kiss was drawn out, slowly turned passionate as Soundwave's glossa sought to map out every atom of Prowl's mouth.

A moan escaped Prowl as he melted against Soundwave, relaxing into the touch, the kiss, trusting and open at the moment as he enjoyed being truly desired; treasured and wanted for himself. Large, strong hands caressed his chassis. Tentacles of half a dozen sizes came from Soundwave's frame to stroke his legs, his sensor wings, his throat ... and his spike cover.

A shiver and a moment of tension at the touch, Prowl's entire frame seizing for a second before relaxing again, focusing on other touches while that one settled again. The small tentacle continued to caress his spike cover, teasing, encouraging, trying to draw a moan from Prowl.

~Soundwave loves Prowl,~ he moaned, trembling in desire almost too hot to control. He wanted to bury his spike deep in Prowl, to feel the tight heat and pleasure it brought his lover. To control Prowl's hips to draw out the pleasure as long as they could stand it. Yet it would be breems before he would dare to. First would be to relax Prowl, re-earn his trust, then _stretch_ him even more than their first time.

~And I love you.~ Prowl whispered in answer, focusing on kissing Soundwave, on feeling all of the touches and finally allowing his attention to settle back on the one touch- and relaxed into that one as well.

Gradually the pleasure and lack of resistance in Prowl caused the lock to open and the panel slide open. With a gentle touch, Soundwave's tentacle brushed over the tip of Prowl's spike, the only part available to be touched at the moment.

A moan of pleasure from Prowl as he pressed into Soundwave. ~That is still good.~ Prowl purred.

~Good,~ Soundwave rumbled in return, his own spike beginning to ache behind its panel. ~Soundwave saw how much Prowl enjoyed Jazz's mouth and valve around it in Prowl's office. How intense it felt.~

As he continued to coax the spike to pressurize, a small tentacle slid lower, to curl against and caress the valve cover.

~Very.~ Prowl admitted, agreed, as his spike pressurized into the touch that spiraled around the extending length of sensor-rich metal. Hands dropped to caress along Soundwave's ribs, the shivers running through his frame those of pleasure.

Soundwave fed on the pleasure, on the memories of Prowl and Jazz's intense devotion, as most mechs fed on friendships and attention. ~Prowl: so beautiful in pleasure.~

The rush of shyness and doubt that Prowl always felt, even now, when told that.

~Not.~ He argued as he always did, moaning at the touch on his spike and the pleasure rippling through him. Another shiver and an Prowl looked up, focusing on Soundwave and catching the hosts attention. ~Soundwave.~

Granted the undivided attention he was asking for Prowl looked into the brilliant white optics, optics that had once terrified him until he had come to love them, and his valve cover slid away.

A tremble passed through Soundwave's frame at the trust offered. It always humbled him, whether from Prowl or a stranger. The tentacle, smaller than Jazz's finger, simply stroked, softly and lightly, along the platelets and sensor nodes lining the rim of Prowl's valve. For now, he sought to give pleasure and ensure that Prowl's valve was _slick_.

A soft whimper from Prowl as his hands tightened on Soundwave at first, gradually releasing when his lover did not react except to continue the soft, repetitive touch. Gradually Prowl started to move again as well, hands stroking along ribs struts and shoulders again.

With a deep, resonant moan Soundwave uncoiled the tentacle to stroke the inner rim, just inside Prowl's valve. Penetrating, but only just, as the tentacle sought to coax lubricant from the rarely-used valve.

With each stroke tension flared through Prowl, but it also died away more quickly with each change as well. Prowl's field revealed not fear, but deep with trust and love. Slowly his valve started to respond, not resisting the touch and gradually growing slick.

A slightly thicker tentacle joined the first to gently press inward, its movements carefully calculated to coat itself thoroughly before pressing fractionally deeper.

The addition drew a soft moan from Prowl as the first sensor nodes in his valve were caressed, the difference, the reminder of pleasure like easing the way and smoothing over doubts and bad memories.

Surrounded by a field full of care and love, Prowl actually started to desire more.

It was too much for Soundwave and his spike cover snapped open, allowing his thick spike to pressurize between them. He made no further move to use it however, knowing that even if fully aroused Prowl would need much more stretching to take him in without pain.

Thus a third tentacle joined the efforts on Prowl's valve. This time with enough mass to press against the valve walls and begin to stretch them, readying them with smooth strokes and careful attention for the large spike that wanted in so badly.

~Good.~ Prowl moaned, soft sounds of pleasure accompanying the statement. His hands, under his control, reached down to run lightly over the large spike, testing the surface and feel. The hot flare of pleasure-desire-_please_ crashed into him from Soundwave, the giant's frame trembling with need.

~More?~ Prowl made the submissive request, but true all the same in the asking.

Soundwave sucked in a deep draught of air and trembled as a fourth tentacle eased into Prowl's slick, hot valve. Every tremor of the valve lining traveled down the tentacles to drive Soundwave closer to the edge of his control.

A soft keen of want and pleasure at the stretch, a brief moment of wonder from Prowl that he could forget this feeling and how badly he craved it.

Hands continued to stroke the Soundwave's spike as Prowl pressed back into the touch, begging for more. ~Want you. Trust you. Take please.~

Offer. His offer. Different, all different, and all the difference.

~Yes,~ Soundwave trembled as he withdrew the tentacles and shifted to kneel, his legs together. With tender care that belied how desperate he was, Soundwave lifted Prowl and spread his legs to straddle Soundwave's. ~Love,~ he moaned without shame or reservation as he guided Prowl down until the head of Soundwave's thick spike just began to press between the soft platelets and into Prowl's valve.

~Love you. Want _you_. Please.~ Prowl repeated, lips pressing against Soundwave's as his entire frame trembled in the large mechs arms at the first stretch of the spike, his only thoughts recall of Soundwave and all of the pleasure from this between them.

It was all Soundwave could take. Knowing Prowl was physically ready, the knowledge that he was mentally ready drew a rumble of desire from the big mech before he pressed Prowl's hips down and rocked his own up. The stretch and slide of the valve around his spike was exquisite, but far more was the intense pleasure it drew from Prowl.

A keen of wanting pleasure, of welcome as Prowl grabbed onto Soundwave and held, loosing himself in the wonderful sensation that he had not felt since they had been parted.

Willingly giving himself to Soundwave, trembling from want and need and desire that spilled into everything between them, accent to the one constant between them all.

Love.

Despite Soundwave's best efforts at self-control, he only managed to keep the rocking slide slow for a few thrusts. Then the charge was simply too high. The next thrust was strong and deep, driving the tip of Soundwave's spike against the top of Prowl's valve when he brought the Praxian's hips down hard.

~Soundwave.~ Bliss shot through Prowl's entire frame, centered on the pleasure from his valve as he reached up, desiring and receiving another kiss before the next thrust drove him to overload, quickly followed by his lover. Neither were particularly aware of laying down or powering down for recharge, but protocols written long ago in Soundwave ensured that Prowl ended up in a comfortable position.


	41. To Honor a Bond

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Slash, Sticky  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p><strong>At All Costs 41: To Honor a Bond<strong>

* * *

><p>Soundwave knelt to kiss Prowl, expressing all his desire for the mech in the simple chaste contact. He left his lover heated when he stood.<p>

"Soundwave: must speak with the Prime," he said gently. "Prowl: should spend time with Jazz."

"He has been very patient with me." Prowl agreed, and he was more than willing to admit that he wanted to see his silver bonded again. "Will you come back here?"

"Affirmative," he promised before turning to leave. His symbiots greeted him at the door and quickly docked in a flurry of transformations.

Prowl watched them go, content with knowing that his lover was well and at peace knowing that Soundwave would return. He returned to his suite once they were out of sight, determined to tidy up a bit and maybe get caught up on changes since the surrender before Jazz arrived.

Optimus had assured him that everything would be seen to and that Prowl need not worry, but during his time as third and the little time he already spent as the Prime's second Prowl knew there were things that were being missed. It was his very _function_ to catch those oversights and deal with them.

He was quickly buried in the work, so focused that he wasn't consciously aware of Jazz's approach, or how long the silver minibot sat in the corner on a comfortable chair and simply watched him.

It was only when a gentle, amused pulse along the bond requested his attention did he look up.

"Hey lover," Jazz grinned at him, his relaxed sprawl on the chair intentionally enticing.

"Jazz." Prowl murmured, optics traveling over his bonded, appreciative and hungry as a hint of guilt wormed across the bond. "You should have told me you were here."

"You were too content, I couldn't," Jazz purred with a warm smile and soothing comfort over the bond. "I know how good it feels to sink fully into your function, you know."

Prowl stood and crossed the room to pull Jazz into his arms, soft vent of contentment as the silver mech snuggled against him. He had missed his bonded, affection and joy flooding back across the bond.

Jazz stretched up for a kiss, his glossa stroking along Prowl's lip plates before delving into his bonded's mouth, intent on reclaiming everything Soundwave had touched. ~Sorry,~ he moaned, shaking with the sudden surge of need. ~You accept my lovers and it's so hard for me to accept him. I never wanted to hurt you like this.~

~Not hurting me.~ Prowl promised him gently, willing and offering himself to his bonded without reservation. In truth the Praxian was more concerned with the distress that his needs were causing to those he loved. ~I want, need, your happiness.~

~I am,~ Jazz promised him, meaning it with all he was as his hands found sensitive gaps in armor. ~My happiness is yours, love. These insecurities will fade in time.~

Prowl carried the smaller mech back to his seat, settling with Jazz on his lap and holding him close. ~What worries you love?~ Prowl wanted to know, to understand to care for his bonded as Jazz needed.

~Same thing it's always been,~ Jazz murmured as he relaxed and snuggled in with a content sound and allowed his hands to wander. ~That I'm not good enough, not _enough_ for you. That I'll loose you because I'm not enough to satisfy your needs. Our bond helps a _lot_, but ya know, not everything responds to reassurance and logic. I'm a pleasurebot to my very spark. We exist to fulfill our client's every need. You aren't a client ... you're so much more ... but, love, that you _need_ more than I can give freaks out a level of my coding I can't even begin to touch. You need my happiness ... I _need_ yours, I need to provide whatever you need. I'm adapting. I'm learning. Just give me time for it to sink in that what you need from Soundwave doesn't mean I've failed you.~

Prowl processed that, thought it through, looked at it from every angle he could before nudging gently at Jazz's helm and until the silver mech looked up so Prowl could kiss him. It was a gentle thing, long and drawn out, to share and reassure. ~You have not failed me. You have never failed me. Take all the time that you need, but know this- What I need from you is exactly what you _are_, as you are.~

A low purr, a shiver of pleasure and the bond sang with Jazz's joy at the statement. ~Thank you,~ was more sense than words, and it carried everything that being approved of meant to Jazz and his pleasurebot coding. ~I _know_ you aren't going to leave me, that Soundwave isn't to replace me, that it's not because I'm lacking that you love him,~ he said as firmly as he could. ~It's just going to take me time to _believe_ what I know.~

Acceptance of that need, and a belief in Jazz that came with complete and total trust. Prowl was willing to take as long as was needed so that it would work, was willing to work as hard as it took, to see to those he loved.

~Love you, Prowl,~ Jazz murmured, stretching up for a long, gentle kiss that slowly deepened. ~All I need from you is the attention you enjoy giving,~ he promised, then grinned cheekily. ~At least Soundwave isn't possessive like I am. That'd be a real campaign for your battle computer.~

Prowl groaned at the suggestion, but it was a sound of amused agreement more than anything negative. ~Thank Primus for small blessings. And you know I love giving you attention. Especially when you tell me what kind of attention you want.~

Jazz could only moan and arch against Prowl's chassis at the statement, a flood of images rushing between them. Dominating them was Jazz's favorite; a show of Prowl's strength. Whether it was taking Jazz against the wall or pinning him down, very little got Jazz revved up quite like being 'forced' to spread his legs for the pleasure of another, but especially for Prowl.

The purr from Prowl shifted into a low growl as he proceeded to claim Jazz's mouth, glossa invading and demanding as his hands moved to better hold the silver mech and he stood. The unabashed thrill he felt from the minibot, hot and bright as a star that slammed through Jazz's systems and into Prowl's was more than enough to prime both their systems.

Prowl had planned to carry his bonded to the berth and make up for their time apart there, but the sudden charge to his system changed his plans, and Prowl was nothing if not flexible in his planning.

With another growl he pressed Jazz against the nearest wall, hands digging into hips, pressing at sensors and wires as he ground their interface systems together. Jazz's valve cover had already snapped open, but now his systems begged for a hard spike to drive into him, to fill and stretch him into shared bliss.

~Yesssss,~ Jazz's mind and spark sang with pleasure that wasn't physical. ~So strong.~

~And you are mine.~ Prowl rumbled, sound carrying through them both as his spike pressurized. ~Say it.~ He demanded, even as he field flared with love and adoration of the mech in arms, passion and need clear and bright of how much Jazz was loved.

"Yours!" Jazz responded without actually thinking, the words and intent so purely _right_ for him that he nearly overloaded just from the intensity of it. "I'm yours, Prowl. Please use me," he begged without shame.

Spike plunged into the waiting valve, drawing a cry of pure bliss from both mechs as Jazz clung to Prowl and Prowl supported Jazz. Thrusts came fast and hard, driving deep into Jazz's valve and pushing them hard. The physical pleasure heightened the emotional pleasure until Jazz keened against Prowl's throat as his overload crackled between them.

Hard overload gave way to shared post overload bliss, the delight at Jazz's pleasure radiating clearly from Prowls spark as he nuzzled at the smaller mech. ~Mine.~ Prowl purred, chest plates parting to offer his spark to his bonded.

An offer that was eagerly accepted, no words needed as familiar sparks met again, melting into one another in a sharing deeper and stronger than each alone.

~Yours.~

* * *

><p>The request at his door was no surprise. Prime had been expecting any orn now, knowing that it would come as soon as Soundwave could bear to tear himself away from the love he missed for so long.<p>

In fact he was a little surprised that the pair had managed to part so soon, but he was not going to comment on that as he opened the door and welcomed the High Priest inside.

With a motion as smooth as it had been from Sentinel Prime's memories, Soundwave knelt and spread his arms in supplication as a greeting, then stood. Most would wait for the verbal command, but the telepath could hear it before it was spoken.

"Soundwave: gives thanks to my Lord Prime for time with Prowl before reporting. Prowl: reassuring Jazz now."

A nod of acknowledgment from Prime, both of the formality and the thanks as he directed his visitor deeper into his temporary accommodations. "You both deserved it, after what you have been through. And I am sure that Prowl will see to putting Jazz to rights again."

"Affirmative," Soundwave agreed. "Jazz: still learning Soundwave is not a threat to Jazz's place with Prowl."

Energon was produced and seats were found that would hold up the strain of the larger mechs as Prime nodded slowly. "I am sure you are already know it is going to take him some time, since he is now being asked to share the very center of his universe."

Prowl and Jazz were not the only things that Soundwave had come to discuss, Optimus was sure, but if that was the subject the host wished to address first he was willing. As much reassurance as he was being given that everything would work out between the three mechs, they were all still his friends as well as two of his closest officers, and he cared about what happened to them.

"Affirmative. Initial projection: two to three centuries. Soundwave: has waited Prowl's entire functioning. Soundwave: will remain patient. Jazz: very generous in sharing and effort to accept Prowl as a hub."

"I am glad that things are going well then." And in the grand scheme of things Soundwave was correct. He had already waited thousands of vorns for Prowl. A few more centuries, especially since he was no longer being forcibly kept from the Praxian, seemed a small price compared to the final reward.

"And I am also sure that Prowl and Jazz are not the only things you wished to speak of with me."

"Affirmative," Soundwave inclined his helm. "Soundwave: desires to know what function the Lord Prime wishes of Soundwave now."

Optimus considered the request, giving it all of the serious thought that it deserved. There was no doubt in his processor that the mech before him would do whatever was asked of him in service to his Prime. Soundwave had already made that very clear. He was a solid match for Prowl that way. Jazz too, even if he was far more mouthy and less stoic about it.

Everything that he had seen had pointed to the idea that Soundwave had been happy in his functioning before the war. And now that there was no longer need to call up mechs to be what they were not, it was Optimus' desire, and to an even greater degree that of the Matrix, to see peace and contentment once more.

"You served Sentinel as Priest of Primus. Would you serve me as such?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave said, a flare of joy coursing through him. "Soundwave: would be honored and very pleased to do so."

Pleasant topics out of the way, Optimus turned to more serious matters for a while. "I am sure the takeover was not an easy thing, and I am also that you would not have surrendered without complete control over the Decepticons, but what are your intentions now?"

"Integration," he said simply, belying the incredibly complex nature of the effort. "Soundwave: has systematically removed the Decepticons that would not have adapted. Requirements: energon, shelter and a _function_. Recommendations: function by mech in personnel file Soundwave provided. Recommendation:" his voice turned hard and determination. "Reformat list also provided."

"So you are proposing that a great deal can be solved by finding a function that suits each mechs needs and grants them the means to find at least the basic necessities?" Optimus clarified, his processor already going over the rest of what Soundwave had said. "And to reformat those on the list and offer that same option to any others that fail to integrate?"

"Affirmative. Many mechs reformatted to become Decepticons. Many require reformat to leave. Decepticons: 62.9% mechling or youngling, processor wiped and programmed as warriors. These mechs: little hope for integration without reformatting."

The statistic was enough to make Optimus spark twist with the sheer wrongness of what had been done, and what needed to be done. The reformatting of those who required the procedure would take vorns of work, around attempts to rebuild the world they had shattered. Even worse, they would almost assuredly have to be imprisoned, or at least segregated from the general population while they waited.

"Do you already have a plan drawn up?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave inclined his helm. "Recommended actions: file 734976543-675-67542 of the surrender document."

Prime scanned the document quickly, frame still as he considered what he saw. Much as he would have expected from Prowl, it was not just a list of designations and spark case numbers. Each designation included both a brief description of why Soundwave believed reformatting was the only answer and a link to the full medical and intel files on the mech in question. That included Soundwave's personal notes on what had been done to make them a Decepticon, what he had done to temper the programming to allow them a normal function and why those efforts failed.

At the very end was Soundwave's personal suggestion that the laws regarding incarceration for life and execution be changed to reformatting, or at least include that as a preferred option. It was a more efficient use of resources and gave a much greater possibility of improving society as a whole.

Optimus nodded slowly, faced with yet another hard decision from this war and quietly amazed at how politically savvy his High Priest could be. Of the handful few left, Soundwave seemed to have the most in common with Optimus as far as a desire to preserve life and see to justice, not just to uphold the laws and ways that had created the war in the first place.

"It will be looked into deeper. Thank you for what you have already done," Optimus gave moment of thought and a sharp vent. "Are there any mechs that moved beyond your control, gone rouge, that we need to be on the lookout for?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave's regret was palpable between them. "File 734976543-675-67051 details such mechs. Rogues: thirty-two in all. Faction: Aricons. Twenty strong. Remainder: true rogues. Rogues: currently hunted by Decepticons as traitors."

"That might help matters." Optimus vented softly. "We are going to need those who can act in contact now. Are there suggestions for those as well in the file, or there some that you could care to recommend?"

Soundwave paused fractionally. "Decepticons: do not tolerate traitors to live. Recommendations: given. Probability of live capture: very low."

"Another thing that might work to our favor." Prime murmured. "What else needs to be brought to my attention before I have time to review the report?"

Or really wait for Prowl to go over the whole thing, outline everything that demanded Primes attention immediately, and then ranked the rest of it in order of importance for him to go over as he had the time.

"Negative," Soundwave said, then hesitated. "Inquiry: Function of Prowl and Jazz now?"

"Whatever they wish it to be." Optimus looked at him. "I was going to ask Prowl to continue to work with me. I have come to depend heavily on his skills over the vorns, and would appreciate his continued assistance."

And his friendship. Prowl had been a source of calm and reason when Optimus had faced hard decisions, and he was sure that he was going to need that objective secondary opinion in the future.

"As soon as Jazz had an acceptable replacement trained he will be released him position, if he wishes, to function as he chooses."

Soundwave made a low sound, somewhat thoughtful. "Prowl: not yet prepared to choice own function. Prowl: summoned to _serve_. Soundwave: believes Prowl would he ... happy ... to continue serving as the Prime's Second. Prowl: very fulfilled by his duties."

"Then I will speak to him about it, unless he has another position he is considering." Optimus said, relaxing back in his seat.

"Prowl: will not consider leaving unless prompted," Soundwave attempted to explain. "Prowl: content with his current function."

"I know. But I also know that he will go wherever you and Jazz are, and if there is something that takes you from here he will follow." Optimus smiled, then grew serious again. "A choice that will now be his to make. I have heard from other what changes need to be made as we rebuild, but I would value any insight you have to offer."

"Affirmative," Soundwave agreed, pulling up files and sorting intel as he would have for a presentation to Prowl, rather than what he gave to Megatron and Starscream.


	42. A Place of Their Own

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Slash, Sticky, Tactile  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p><strong>At All Costs 42: A Place of Their Own<br>**

* * *

><p>Activity was all around Prowl as he walked, his sensor panels picking up the vibration of building, of working, of play, of <em>living<em>.

And it felt good.

There were still subtle feelings underneath it all, especially here in Iacon. The war might be over, but it was going to be centuries before things were even close to set to right once more. But looking around, the changes being made were already in evidence, and they were good.

Prowl finally reached his destination, and even after all this time politely pinged a request for admittance. It was his first orn off since they had returned, and both Soundwave and Jazz had pushed him to go somewhere besides his office, whatever site he was looking over with Prime, or either of the quarters he shared with his lovers. Which for Prowl translated into a visit to Ratchet.

The door slid open to an empty entry room, but the sounds of _life_ were strong in here too. Ratchet's distinctive and rarely heard laugh, and the deeper rumble of Skyfire.

::Berthroom,:: Ratchet commed him. ::We're just trading Wheeljack stories.::

::I can come back later if I am intruding.:: Prowl offered as he made his way inside, a small smile on his face at the idea of the Wheeljack stories that the two of them must know.

"I would hate to interrupt a good time." He added for Skyfire's benefit.

"Nonsense," the giant shuttle grinned at him from the berth where Ratchet was lounging in his lap. "I see your Order has sent you away from your work. Come to trade stories?"

"If I have any worthy of being exchanged for Wheeljack's latest mishap." Prowl agreed, quickly infected by the prevailing good mood as his sensor wings twitched in amusement. "And yes, I was informed that I needed to go somewhere that was not work or home."

Ratchet grinned and thumped the berth with his foot. "Plenty of room, come up and sit, but grab some high grade for us while you're up."

"I'm sure you have worthy stories," Skyfire chuckled, his wings fluttering in good humor and greeting. "Between Jazz, Soundwave and the symbiots, you have more chaos-makers than I do."

"Same place where you've always kept it?" Prowl asked, more than willing to fetch enough for all of them.

"Of course," Ratchet waved vaguely in the direction.

"If that is what you are looking for then I am sure I can provide," Prowl smiled slightly as he turned to grab four cubes. "Rumble and Frenzy are certainly taking advantage of the situation to cause as much chaos as they can."

"Stories are always good," Skyfire grinned. "Anything else on your processors?"

"Is there supposed to be anything else on my processor?" Prowl asked, curious as he handed Ratchet his highgrade, handed over two for Skyfire, and settled his frame at the foot of the berth.

"You're _here_, Prowl," Ratchet chided him. "You only come to me when you're ready to talk about something, even if it's just out of boredom from being locked out of your office."

"Jazz can do that?" Skyfire sounded surprised.

"That pleasurebot _is_ the head of Special Operations," Ratchet pointed out.

"He can. He does. I keep telling him it is an abuse of his power, but I seem to be outnumbered." Prowl explained to Skyfire, then turned his attention to the medic. "And what if, for once, I just came to see how you were doing?"

"Then welcome to the party," the CMO laughed and took an appreciative sip of his energon. "So how is Jazz getting along with the miscreant army that Soundwave's brought into his life?"

Prowl vented softly. "He is tolerating them, for the most part. Soundwave had to tell Rumble and Frenzy to tone it down a little, but it helps that he knew all of them from before. It was a bit of an adjustment for him to realize that either Ravage or Laserbeak is constantly with me, but he likes them better. And they know he is not trying to turn me against Soundwave."

"That's good," Ratchet said and Skyfire nodded.

"Trying to blend a trine, even if it's not a trine like I'm building, is not easy," the shuttle added with sympathy.

"If I'm reading them right, if they were going to be a trine, it would be much easier," Ratchet said with a meaningful look at Prowl. "Prowl's going to be a hub."

Skyfire cycled his optics, his wings twitching as he looked up the term, then twitched again in unease. "They aren't lovers ... _won't_ be lovers?" he looked directly at Prowl.

Prowl vented softly, studying the highgrade even if what he was really considering was his answer. "Because they desire each other? I do not believe so. They ... tolerate ... each other for my sake. I calculate less than a 10% probability that we will all reside in the same quarters a vorn from now. Though I admit my calculations where Jazz is concerned are frequently inaccurate."

And no matter what either of them insisted, Prowl knew that at least for now that was all it was. A tolerance, with him as the only link between them that was binding. A tolerance that Prowl was still very afraid was going to snap and leave him alone.

Skyfire shifted and reached a huge hand to gently stroke one of Prowl's sensor wings in comfort. "Give them time. One hasn't deactivated the other yet. That's actually a very promising sign given how easy it could have been during the war."

"Listen to the Seeker-kin," Ratchet suggested. "He's got it right."

A small shudder ran through Prowl at the idea, especially given the fact that Jazz had admitted to the desire to do so, had actually contemplated and planned it out, on more than one occasion.

"I very much hope that you are right. I am not sure-" Another quiver of his sensor wings under the gentle touch. "I am not sure what will happen if one of them leaves."

Or the recurring fear that both of them, even Jazz despite the bond between them and as strong as it was, would leave him. Having them together like this, even if _they_ were not together, had only reinforced to Prowl his need for them.

"Prowl, you're _bonded_ to Jazz, yes?" Skyfire asked with a small frown.

Gold optics flickered then focused on Skyfire. "Yes, for over a century now. Why?"

"Then look _deep_," light blue optics bore into him. "You know that mech's very _spark_. You can know him better than he knows himself. Where in _Jazz_ is even the faintest whisper of being willing to leave you?"

"There isn't. He won't." Prowl knew this, knew it as more than fact, was more sure of it than he was of his own designation. Jazz would _never_ leave him.

"Then stop letting your processor lie to your spark," Skyfire said firmly. "It's the fastest way to break something good. If you trust him, _trust_ him."

A moment of silence as Prowl collected himself, venting softly as sensor wings finally relaxed. "You're right." He murmured softly. "I trust him with everything else. There is no reason to not trust him with this."

"Now if it was only really that easy," Ratchet grumbled from his sprawl on Skyfire's lap.

"It's the start," Skyfire insisted. "Now ... what doubts exist with Soundwave?"

Prowl actually smiled a little at Ratchet. "You know me too well."

He thought about it for a moment, then looked at Skyfire. "I do not doubt either of them. I fear that I may not be enough for both of them."

Not that he did not love them both, need them both with all of his spark. He felt off balance when one of them was gone. But that his love would not be enough to keep both of them with him.

Sensor wings trembled slightly, insecurities that only surfaced in front of those he trusted. "Am I being selfish?"

"Yes, in the same way everyone with Seeker coding is," Skyfire smiled gently. "If you trust them, trust that they won't leave you, then also trust that whatever they need they find in you or with your blessing."

Prowl stared at him, then looked at Ratchet, unsure but _wanting_ to believe with all of his spark what the Seeker-kin was telling him.

"Yes, you have a tiny bit of it. Everything with wings, even non-flight wings, does," Ratchet flicked a hand at Prowl's sensor wings, then glared up at his lover. "That shouldn't be _nearly_ enough to want a trine."

"I doubt it is," Skyfire shook his helm, his expression serious. "But once his spark was set on two mates and not one or three, it would have activated the coding for it. Not true trine coding like a Seeker, but what I have. Even if it's not _those_ two, you'll be driven to need two. But back to the actual point; if you trust them both, trust that they love you, then trust them to do what they need to for that to work. From what I've heard around, Jazz has made it abundantly clear that he's willing to make it work with Soundwave. Soundwave has _definitely_ made it clear he'll do whatever it takes to make Jazz comfortable enough to permit a hub bond to form with you."

And all they needed from Prowl was patience and time. Things that the Praxian had in abundance. Prowl nodded slowly. "I trust them." His spark just needed to remind his processor of this fact.

"Good," Ratchet grunted and downed half his cube in one gulp. "Can we get to better topics now? I was enjoying laughing at other's stupidity."

A flutter of sensor wings, this time in agreement as Prowl gave his highgrade the attention it deserved. "How about you tell me what had you laughing so hard when I arrived, and I will tell you what Rumble and Frenzy did to Red Alert that almost cost them their freetime privileges."

"Deal," Ratchet grinned at him.

* * *

><p>Jazz and Soundwave had been right, Prowl reflected as he made his way back to the quarters that were currently home. He had needed to get out of his normal routine, and even if it was not what they had in mind, Prowl's visit with Ratchet and his lover had helped Prowl sort through his own thoughts.<p>

He had reached the conclusion that he loved and trusted both of them, and if they were willing to try and make it work for his sake then he was willing to wait as long as it took until they could come to an arrangement that suited them all.

Maybe he could even tell them both this at the same time. He keyed in the code to his door, wondering if Jazz would have made it back from his work for the orn.

~Never went to work, love,~ Jazz sing-songed across the bond with loving affection as the door opened. ~Sounders and I had a _lot_ to talk about.~

"Prowl: welcome home," Soundwave looked over his shoulder from the couch, his perfectly white optics shining with his greeting.

~Really?~ Prowl asked, sending love across the bond along with the inquiry that had no bite. He smiled at Soundwave. "Soundwave. Should I be concerned that it seems the two of you are already conspiring against me?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave deadpanned to the ringing laughter of Jazz beyond him.

"Come on and sit, love," Jazz chuckled. "We've talked, so now it's your turn to hear it."

The little bit of initial tension drained from Prowl, the overall good mood relaxing him as he settled into a seat positioned so that he could see both of them with ease. "I am very eager to hear what you have been discussing."

"Where do you want to start; living arrangements, recharge arrangements, interfacing arrangements or what we have planned for you after you're caught up?" Jazz purred.

"Why don't you just start at the beginning of the list you gave me?" Prowl suggested, the feelings he was getting across the bond from his mate at the final item making his decision for him. He knew Jazz, and that sort of feeling usually meant Prowl was going to be able to concentrate on little else besides what was being done to him, or what was going to happen to him.

Jazz snickered. "Okay, Sounders and I have decided that the best way for _us_ to move forward is to find a place big enough for all eight of us, but with two master berthrooms. Eventually one can be converted to something else, but for now, we live together, but not _together_."

"Designation: Soundwave," he corrected.

Prowl twitched in amusement, since once Jazz settled on a name for someone they were usually stuck with it, no matter how much they disliked it. It was also something Jazz only did for those who'd become important to him, be it in a good or bad way.

"A very logical solution." Prowl commented, seeing no downside to the arrangement or the plan.

"So the idea is that you'd spend every other night with each of us, modified by work schedules since all three of us occasionally work nights or odd shifts," Jazz continued when the first part met with approval. "I know there will be times we all stay in the same berth, but it's not the _plan_ for a while. Not until I'm less territorial."

"Very reasonable." Prowl murmured, understanding traveling across the bond. If this arrangement was what Jazz needed, just having them all in the same dwelling would be a great peace to Prowl. He readily admitted that it was far, _far_ more equitable than he ever anticipated it would be for vorns. He could feel the effort Jazz was putting into this too, pushing himself to make Prowl happy.

"Now, interfacing is no more restricted to the berthroom than it is now," Jazz purred, trying to suppress his need to be held and reassured that he was doing _enough_. "And no more restricted by who you're spending recharge with than now either."

"I would hope not." Prowl smiled and held out a hand to Jazz, not missing the need as invitation flowed across the bond with how happy Prowl was. Prowl didn't miss the smile of approval Soundwave offered him as Jazz scrambled into his bonded's lap and snuggled close. The drain of tension and stress was palpable in the room.

"Prowl: questions before we continue?" Soundwave asked.

"No." Prowl answered, hands moving soothingly over the Jazz's back in an automatic act that comforted them both after so long. "The plan seems very well thought out and very feasible with a high chance of success. I see no reason to change any part of it yet."

"So now," Jazz was beginning to purr, contentment and pleasure radiating off him, along with a growing teasing amusement. "Sounders and I..."

"Designation: Soundwave," he interrupted, only to received a playful glossa stuck out at him.

"Decided that you need to be a _little_ more decisive at times," Jazz's grin got wider. "So we're going to ask you to _choose_ what happens tonight, in detail."

Prowl twitched in surprise, sensor wings quivering slightly. "I-what?" The Praxian looked from his bonded to his lover and back again. "Me?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave actually smiled with amusement. "Prowl: too passive in interfacing choices. Jazz and Soundwave: desire to _hear_ what Prowl finds most enticing."

"We'll give you some ideas if you are drawing a blank to start with," Jazz purred and nuzzled him. "We love ya."

Prowl held Jazz a little tighter. ~Tonight...the three of us?~ He asked his bonded, wanting to be sure he understood.

~That's the idea,~ Jazz purred, excited in his own way. ~We want you to tell us what _you_ want to see, what you want us to do.~

"Suggestions would be appreciated." Prowl admitted quietly, very much wanting to please.

"Prowl: Jazz and Soundwave also wish to please," the host said gently. "Prowl: gives Jazz and Soundwave few opportunities."

"We want to indulge your kinks too, love," Jazz kissed him, long and slow and tender. "So, some thoughts. You bound, watching as we work each other to a frenzy as only a rank five pleasurebot and telepath can manage, with the bond wide open and Sounders..."

"Designation: _Soundwave_."

"Feeding you what he's feeling," Jazz continued without a pause. "Or perhaps you in Soundwave's lap, his spike filling you while I suck yours off. Or you and Soundwave while I watch and pleasure myself to it. Any appealing?"

The first suggestion Prowl dismissed without a second thought, but the second...the second one made him quiver, this time with anticipation. It was a fantasy, buried deep for a long time, of being trapped between his lovers for the sake of shared pleasure, now being offered to him.

"I like the sound of the second one..." Prowl admitted, thoughtful.

"Any changes to make it _hotter_?" Jazz prodded, excited to finally get to the good part of the evening.

Sensor wings twitched as he nuzzled at Jazz, an edge of shy/unsure in his field. "Ride me while he spikes me, playing with my neck?"

Jazz shivered in anticipation and his field flared brightly with a soft moan. "_Yes_!"

"Affirmative," Soundwave agreed, his own desires flaring.

"I would like that very much then, if we are all in agreement." Prowl murmured, hopeful and shivering already.

"Oh yeah, we are," Jazz lifted his helm to nuzzle Prowl's neck. "Want to make it to the berth, or just move over to Sounders?"

"_Soundwave_!" The host corrected sharply.

"Berth." Prowl moaned softly. The extra space would be nice, and if there was a chance that both of his loves would recharge with him tonight he would encourage it any way he could.

Soundwave's deep rumble of desire greeted the statement as he stood to scoop Prowl and Jazz in his arms, not giving either the time move themselves. At this range the arousal and _want_ in his systems was intense, and all of it was directed at Prowl. It was strong enough that the Praxian whimpered and squirmed, and settled for kissing Jazz in the moment. It was wonderful already to Prowl, being in strong arms of the host and in the presence of his bonded.

Soundwave set them gently on the berth before climbing onto it himself and tipping Prowl's helm up for a kiss that gradually became more intense.

Prowl leaned into the kiss, wanting but slightly hesitant with Jazz still pressed into his side.

~Don't hold back, love,~ Jazz encouraged him, watching intently with his optics and his spark. ~The more I see, the more I feel how good he is for you, the easier it'll be for me to accept _us_.~

Prowl moaned, love spilling back across the bond as gave in fully to the kiss, hands coming up to rest on Soundwave's shoulders for support. He was only half aware of Jazz squirming out of his lap until he felt his mate press against his back, sweeping his mag-pulses across Prowl's sensor wings and turning his mouth to teasing Prowl's neck.

~Maybe we should start with overloading you like this, between our hands,~ Jazz purred, excited and aroused.

At the moment all Prowl could manage was a feeling of acceptance, of thankfulness for whatever his lovers wanted to give and how good it all felt.

~Prowl: must decide,~ Soundwave broadcast to them all.

~Mmm, yes, we are trying to work on your assertiveness,~ Jazz consented. ~So, babe ... how do you want your first overload?~

Prowl wavered, breaking off the kiss to nuzzle at Soundwave before his wings pressed back into Jazz's hands. ~This. Wings.~ His lips brushed over Soundwave's again, asking but still making the first effort. ~Touch me, please.~

Jazz grinned and pressed his hands forward, stroking the elegant wings he loved so much as he stroked his mag-pulses along the quivering length. Oh, how he loved to play with them, to feel and hear the responses he earned. His optics followed Soundwave's movements as the host stroked Prowl's sides and sent delicate tentacles out to squirm into gasps in Prowl's armor to tweak wires and cables.

The Praxian between them was quickly reduced to a quivering mess of need, soft moans of bliss echoing around the berthroom. "Feel so good. Love you. Please-"

He shifted, trying to push into the touches and caught between too many choices as pleasure came at him from all sides and his field flared out, resonant with the pleasure filling his frame and the joy from his spark. Across fields and his bond, he could feel how _incredible_ this felt to both his lovers. Jazz was in bliss and Soundwave was trembling in desire at the telepathic feedback he received from both the smaller mechs.

"Oh yeah," Jazz moaned against Prowl's neck. "Give in, babe. Let us feel it, hear it. Let us do this for you."

The next sweep across his wings pushed Prowl to overload, charge crackling over his entire frame, licking at his lovers plating. The pleasure exploded into his field as he let go. He retained just enough awareness to feel Jazz cry out in ecstasy against his back, then moments later the deep, resonant moans of Soundwave loosing control as well.

As balance failed, Prowl fell against Soundwave, guided by large hands and a silver frame. The bond thrummed with pleasure-contentment-happiness from Jazz just as Prowl's mind was bombarded with pleasure-joy-love from Soundwave.

Prowl was perfectly content to rest there for a moment, awe at being with his lovers, both of them, and the overload they had just shared making him blissfully happy.

Over him, Soundwave and Jazz shared a look before shifting to draw Prowl down, all thee laying on the berth with the Praxian in the middle.

~Recharge if you wish, love,~ Jazz purred soothingly. ~We have all the time in the world to play.~

Prowl snuggled down between them, utterly content at the moment to be exactly where he was.

"Sorry," he murmured, the idea of recharging fighting with his desire for interfacing. "Still want to, but..."

"Prowl: recharge," Soundwave murmured, settling in a little better to hold and share Prowl in recharge. "Interface: later."

"Yeah," Jazz nuzzled him. "Recharge sounds good."

Prowl purred, the feelings of safe and happy mixing with pure love directed at those with him as he slipped into the offered recharge.

* * *

><p>Prowl was deep in tactical mode planning the reconstruction of Kaon when his spark pulsed. Jazz was excited and wanted his attention, but only when he could spare the attention.<p>

Completing and saving the critical details he was working on Prowl scanned the plan over one more time and shut down the datapad he had just made a copy on. It was not complete.

In fact it was barely workable in the form it was in. But at least this way if Prime wanted an update and needed some evidence of how things were progressing to put before the neutral factions that were predictably giving him problems Prowl had something for him to work with.

Satisfied he turned his attention to Jazz, opening the bond wide, love and amusement flowing across it. ~I have time, love. Now what has you so excited?~

~I think I've found a place,~ he said, the bouncing on his pedes ppalpable across the intimate connection. ~It's a little further out than we were hoping, and a lot higher end, but it has everything we need and the upgrades are easy for me and Sounders to wire up. It's really nice and it has some _incredible_ views. Plenty of space for everybody too, high ceilings for Sounders but only needs a bit of remodeling for us. Designed for a trine.~

Prowl studied it and the specs Jazz sent him and had to agree. It did look like it would suit their needs very well with a little work. And while it was a large suite, having been originally designed to house only three, there could be no argument that they were not being efficient in housing eight in it.

Provided Soundwave liked it as well.

~You wouldn't have called me if you weren't sure I would like, but I assume you still want me to come look?~

~Of course. I pinged Sounders too,~ Jazz purred eagerly. ~I did agree that we'd all be on the contract.~

Thanks flowed from Prowl. ~I will be there as soon as my shift is over.~

He considered the time and his workload. ~Maybe sooner. This project will not suffer if I wait to start it until next shift. Or bring it with me.~

~Love!~ Jazz whined. ~No bringing work home when we've got something to celebrate.~

Prowl laughed softly in amusement. ~Fine, I will not bring it home with me. And I will see you soon, and you can show us what you have found.~

~See you soon,~ Jazz wrapped Prowl's spark in his love and adoration and eagerness to _touch_ him again.

* * *

><p>Prowl pulled up to the coordinates Jazz had sent him, transforming and taking a moment to look up and around. The silver mech had been right- it was a little farther out than they had discussed, and probably more than had originally planned to spend.<p>

But its location was likely one of the few reasons it was still standing in such good condition. Many places like this had been closer to the center of the city, and therefore closer to the destruction when Megatron had made it a mission to level Iacon all those vorns ago.

Impressed with the outside, Prowl searched for Jazz along the bond, looking around for Soundwave at the same time. He felt Jazz approach just in time to be ready for the pounce as his love tackled him in an embrace and several kisses before finally finding Prowl's mouth to stake a very public claim.

Purring in amusement, Prowl wrapped his arms around his mate, holding him close and enjoying the public display of affection and possession. ~You have been busy.~ He commented once the kiss was ended, optics traveling back up the building again.

~I have the most free time,~ he chuckled and nuzzled him. "Sounders should be here soon," he added as he guided Prowl to the side of the building where he could snuggle against the Praxian and steal kisses while they waited. ~It's almost twice what we wanted to spend, but we _do_ have more than enough to afford it without borrowing anything. All three of us have impressive savings from our paychecks, and I can charge a _lot_ more thanks to my former rank and the upgrades I got in my severance package.~

Even more willing in the shadows, slender cover that they were, Prowl held him close, hands running lightly over the silver armor. All that Jazz said was true, and as hard of time as they had been having finding a place that met all of their needs, it would probably prove worth the extra expense.

~I am sure that it would have been a non-issue anyway.~ He nuzzled at Jazz. ~It will be nice, if it works, being able to be together.~

~And one really big step towards a _normal_ life,~ Jazz purred in anticipation of no longer living on a military base. Of all of them, he'd been the fastest to strip his Autobot insignia and officially go back to his former function. In less than a metacycle the difference in him was amazing to Prowl; Jazz was _happy_ in a way he had never been during the war. He was _relaxed_.

"Prowl, Jazz: greetings," Soundwave said as he approached, all five symbiots docked in his chest.

"Heya, Sounders," Jazz chirped playfully.

"Soundwave." Prowl greeted the host as well, nuzzling Jazz and giving him a last kiss before setting him down gently and stepping forward to greet the large mech.

"Jazz believes he has found a place that will suit us all."

"Soundwave: eager to see what Jazz described over the comm," he knelt to kiss Prowl tenderly, unabashed about the public display of favoritism.

Prowl purred, vorns bonded to Jazz having done away with much of his shyness when it came to public displays of affection. And he had nothing against his lovers making it very and publicly clear just who Prowl belonged to.

"As am I." He agreed when the kiss finally broke.

"Then let's go," Jazz said, all but bouncing on his pedes before turning and waving for them to come along. "Private elevator, top floor. It's really nice, even if we aren't flyers."

Prowl couldn't help but smile at the silver mechs enthusiasm as he followed along, his own excitement fed by the emotion from Jazz flowing across the bond.

The ride was short and direct, another plus to the Praxian, memories of efficiency housing and its single functional freight lift coming back clearly. It gave him pause for a moment, recalling when he had been content with that, with being alone and sure that there was nothing beyond that life waiting for him.

Hopeless and cold, locked into a functioning that brought him pain and little joy, and how different it was now standing with those he loved.

Jazz turned and pressed close to hug him in support while Soundwave's large hand rested on his shoulder.

~Never alone, never in pain. Not again.~ Jazz said firmly. ~We're too strong for that now. We _know_ better.~

~I know.~ Prowl murmured, arms wrapping around Jazz for a moment as he leaned into Soundwave, accepted the contact and all that was meant by it.

He would never go back to that. He would never have to. But having been there, it made him appreciate what he had now all the more as the lift came to a stop and opened. The gasp of shock escaped him before he even realized it. Optics brightened as he took in a crystal, polished white stone and metal _palace_ even Mirage would have accepted.

"I did say it had been built for a trine," Jazz smiled at him. "They have a real thing for homes that imitate the sky."

"Seekers: highly uncomfortable when not in the air," Soundwave said even as his own amazement rang clear.

Another second and Prowl regained control enough to nudge gently at Jazz. "Going to show us around then?"

A playful snicker answered as Jazz grabbed his hand and danced backwards. "I think you'll like the first stop. It's a lovely view of the capitol and where you work."

"Indeed?" Sensor wings twitched, reflecting eager anticipation as Prowl allowed himself to be led along, taking in as much as he could of the glittering abode. Over Jazz's delicate sensor horns he realized they were walking towards a grand balcony, not a large window. Spread like an animated mural was central Iacon; the edge of the wealthy merchant distract that they were in, the high-class business district and the government buildings. Much was still in ruins, but from here he could see how much progress was being made as well.

Prowl stared in wonder, stepping past Jazz to look over the city, recognizing elements of the reconstruction plan he had created in action.

"Jazz..." Appreciation already ran deep in Prowl, and this was just the beginning?

"You never said, but I've caught things here and there," Jazz murmured as he pressed against Prowl's side, enjoying the view that meant so much more to his love. "The view, the balcony, _seeing_ what you plan in action. The _building_."

The Praxian wrapped an arm around his bondmate, humbled that Jazz would put that much effort into finding a place that Prowl would enjoy. "Thank you."

He nuzzled at a sensor horn, tearing his optics from the view to kiss his bonded on the helm. "There is more?"

Given a chance he would have happily stayed there, but Jazz had hinted that there was so much more, and Prowl needed to be sure that this place would work for his family, and not just for him.

"Four others, including two that have good views of the First Temple of Iacon," Jazz purred. "You can see all of Iacon from one of the balconies or another. You'll be able to see your work happen as the city is rebuilt."

Prowl sighed, a sound of peaceful satisfaction. "I shall have to look at them later, after you show us the rest of this marvelous place you have found."

"Kitchen, dinning room, entertainment suite, three master berthrooms ... and you won't _believe_ the wash racks," Jazz grinned and hopped in excitement as he guided them into the apartment. Rooms for servants too, which are nicely sized for the symbiots once they've been upgraded."

Prowl wandered a little behind Jazz, closer to Soundwave in an attempt to gauge the hosts reaction, to know what the large mech thought of the apartment. It was more space than Prowl had ever imagined, more elaborate than his officers quarters, and to Prowl those had been extravagant at first.

"After having to share so long, what do they think?" He asked softly, wondering how the symbiots would react to the idea of their own space.

"_Way_ cool," Rumble's voice answered before Soundwave slid his ribs back to allow all of them to undock.

"No shadows," Ravage commented, her tone less than pleased as she landed on razor-clawed pedes. "It's all bright and shiny."

"So much flying room," Laserbeak trilled happily as he and Buzzsaw began to circle upwards.

"Your space can be made so you like it, if nothing else." Prowl offered Ravage, reaching out touch her head gently for a moment by way of greeting before his optics followed the fliers upward.

"True enough," Jazz consented. "Though I think you'll like how well connected this building is to the tunnels and air ducts of the city. You'll be able to go just about anywhere you want without ever seeming to leave."

"I can do that anyway," she pointed out even as she butted her helm against Prowl's hand for attention. "But point taken. It will be acceptable. What will the extra master berthroom be for?"

"I figured Prowler would have the library/study as his office, so Sounders could have the spare berthroom for his workshop or whatever," Jazz grinned at her.

Prowl hummed in thoughtful approval as he gave Ravage the requested attention, having been wondering about the extra space himself. It was not like he needed or wanted a berthroom of his own, with two others to share.

"How many upgrades were you planning to make?"

"Mostly security," Jazz said easily. "You'll need a secure connection to the palace and your office. The trine that commissioned this place were far more concerned with easy access to the sky than to keeping hackers and assassins out, but they didn't have _nearly_ the enemy list the three of us have compiled. And you know if _we're_ here, Prime will be sooner or later too."

"Very true, on all counts." Prowl agreed, processing what he had already observed of the apartment, its weaknesses and potential strengths and how all of it could be turned to their advantage.

Even with the work they would have to do, Prowl wanted to live here. To share this place that seemed to have been made with for them.

But he would say nothing until Jazz and Soundwave indicated it was there wish as well, for when it came down to it Prowl knew in his spark that he would be happy wherever he could be with those he loved.

~Hey, you know I wouldn't have brought it up if _I_ didn't like it,~ Jazz pointed out.

"Soundwave: finds this location agreeable."

"Then it would seem that we are all in agreement?" Prowl asked, optics following the symbiots still charging from room to room, exploring.

"Affirmative," Soundwave said.

"Mmm, so do we want to celebrate on the balcony, or the berthroom?" Jazz cooed, his intent obvious.

"Given your general definition of 'celebrate' I am sure a berthroom would be a more appropriate location." Prowl teased, giving Ravage's helm as final rub as he stood.

"Maybe, but on the balcony you can enjoy that view as well as what we're going to _do_ to you," Jazz grinned a little manically.

"Query: Washracks operational?"

"Yap, we can clean up afterwards," Jazz winked his visor. "Or explore the uses of the soaking pool."

"What you are going to do to me?" Prowl asked, not really concerned as his optics brightened with the mention of the pool and the washracks he had yet to investigate closely.

Jazz grinned even more. "Well, I was thinking of you in Sounder's lap and me in yours."

A shiver ran through Prowl at the idea, one that had become his favorite in the short but very intense time he'd had both his lovers close. He could already feel Jazz's delight at the idea across the bond, and instead stretched his field out to brush against the hosts.

"Soundwave?" he glanced up at the giant.

"Affirmative," he rumbled, reaching his field out for Prowl's to express his anticipation of the pleasure and closeness that was coming.

"Wherever you choose then." Prowl told them, content with any location Jazz chose so long as it ended with Prowl between the two mechs.

Jazz flashed a grin and headed upstairs to the currently empty grand dining room that took up the full half story that was the second floor and overlooked the living room on the first floor along with three of the four first story balconies. It was a glorious view of Iacon as it came to life in light as Cybertron rotated it away from their sun.

"View: incredible," Soundwave allowed his awe at what he had survived to witness flow in his voice and through his field as he pulled Prowl close.

"And the three of us had a _lot_ to do with it," Jazz murmured in agreement, sliding close to Prowl to simply enjoy the view for a few moments.

Wrapped in the physical and field presence of his lovers Prowl sighed in agreement, acknowledging the truth of both statements. While the destruction before him was hard to bear, the life visible in it, and the hope that came with that life, made everything they had suffered seem worth the price.

Hope that they now shared as they were allowed to move on as well.

Jazz flared his field, testing the mood of the other two. A low sound of approval came from Soundwave as he knelt and tipped Prowl's helm up for a soft, lingering kiss. Jazz gave a rumble of his own and pressed against Prowl's chest, rubbing against him with delicious friction while he set to work teasing every cable in Prowl's throat with his glossa and lips.

Prowl whimpered, reaching out with one hand to steady himself on Soundwave as the other stroked along Jazz's back encouragingly. He never stood a chance when they came after him like this together, and really he didn't have any desire to resist what they did to him. That his tendency to melt between them only encouraged the behavior was something that encouraged Prowl to do so all the more.

Jazz was the first to moan, his entire frame trembling against Prowl's as coding-enhanced arousal peaked. Desperate hands rubbed and clawed lightly against Prowl's spike cover, silently pleading for it.

~Yours.~ Prowl's moan echoed Jazz's as the cover slid away and spike pressurized into willing hands, Prowl's own desire evident and flaring through EM field and across the bond for both of his lovers to feel. In reply he felt Jazz open up to let him _feel_ just how intensely erotic the slid of spike across palm was for the minibot.

Prowl's valve cover slid away with another moan, offering to Soundwave and evidence of just how quickly the pair could have the Praxian worked up.

"Inhibitor?" Jazz asked with a shudder of desire.

~Yes. Please.~ Prowl moaned, lips locks with Soundwave's. If he didn't he'd never last, not with lovers as skilled as his, and he wanted this to last this time.

Jazz's hand abandoned him for a brief moment as he pulled the overload inhibitor from his subspace. It slid smoothly around Prowl's spike to latch in place against the spike housing. Jazz's fingers were light and teasing as they slid the valve inhibitor back to latch into place around the outer rim.

As Jazz's hands moved back to stroking Prowl's spike Soundwave settled on his knees and lifted Prowl to slowly lower him onto his thick spike.

Prowl moaned, wings quivering and flaring at the slow stretch of his valve as each sensor node flared to life. The touch on his spike was a glorious sort of slow torture all its own and exquisite contrast to the rest of the pleasure being bestowed on him.

It was pure bliss that left the Praxian at the mercy of the mechs holding him, and Prowl was not about to argue if his lovers were willing to indulge him.

~You're so enjoyable to indulge,~ Jazz shivered in anticipation as Soundwave finally seated his full spike inside Prowl.

With a low rumble of pleasure Soundwave lifted Prowl up and he rolled his hips back before drawing them together again.

~And _that_ is just _hot_ to watch,~ the minibot added as he lowered his helm to indulge himself in sucking Prowl's spike.

~Glad you think so.~ Prowl managed, hands moving to stroke and tease at the minibot's sensor horns while he still had some ability to try and answer the pleasure coursing through him.

Glad for so many reasons that his lovers found him desirable.

He was only half aware through the blinding pleasure when Jazz's mouth left his spike and Soundwave stilled to allow him to climb up and settle himself on Prowl's spike with a needy moan. Then both mechs began to move, Soundwave holding Prowl still between them, while Jazz held onto Prowl's shoulders and nibbled his neck.

Gold optics flared then went dark as Prowl was reduced to simply feeling, incoherent praise and pleading falling from his lips. Caught between the stretch of Soundwave's spike in his valve and the slick pressure of Jazz's valve around his spike the Praxians field flared, meshing completely with his lovers.

"Love you. Feels so good. Need you."

"You have us," Soundwave promised, a sentiment echoed by Jazz across the bond flooded with mutual pleasure as both mechs showered Prowl with love and the promise he would have them forever.


	43. When Time is Given

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Slash, Spark  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p><strong>At All Costs 43: When Time is Given<strong>

* * *

><p>Jazz stood on the balcony that Prowl loved the most, watching the sunset over a rebuilt Iacon. Three hundred vorns of hard work had gone into the city, into all of Cybertron. At the very edge of his visual range Jazz could pick up the lights of Praxus to the south, Protihex in the west and Altihex orbiting far to the northeast. It was an incredible sight, not unlike his early memories when he'd been sent to a party in a Crystal City Tower.<p>

How much had changed since then?

How much _hadn't_ changed?

Optimus was proving to be a strong and wise Prime, a greater leader in peace than he had been in battle. Under his guidance the divisions of Autobot, Neutral and Decepticon were being forgotten, mechs and femmes simply proud to be Cybertronians as they worked together to rebuild.

The old models of caste and class were done away with, replaced with a system that those who had fought for freedom had dreamed of, a system that rewarded those who worked hard and took care of those who were content as they were.

Across the bond came the sense of Prowl and the feeling of his mate's happiness at being _home_. No longer Prime's second in command with army to organize, Prowl still served his Prime in much the same capacity. The Praxian's days were spent sorting and organizing data, keeping Prime informed of the condition of the people he led and the planet he was responsible for, as well as functioning as one of the key planners in the rebuilding of the world they had fought so hard to save.

And while Prowl's coding was content with anything that had him planning and organizing, his personal passion was building-creating - even if it took him away from those he loved on occasion. Like his most recent decaorn long trip to review the reconstruction of Kaon. The city had suffered little by way of war-related damage, but it had been a central focus in bringing all the cities up to a minimal standard of functioning to prevent another war.

Now Prowl was on his way home, only a few blocks away. With a little help from their bond and the upgrades Jazz had received as an Autobot, he could pick out Prowl's alt mode and follow it without difficulty. A second-nature action. Programs and protocols he'd never quite managed to erase activated to feed him targeting data.

He could almost _feel_ the heavy sniper rifle in his hands as he shifted into a more stable firing position.

It was nearly a full klik before he managed to suppress the sniper protocols and relax, soothing himself that he didn't really have a weapon and hadn't really targeted his bondmate.

His bonded disappeared from view, and the presence that was Prowl brushed against the silver mech's spark, full of love and the understanding that Prowl knew what Jazz had just been thinking.

~You didn't miss me?~ Gentle teasing as Prowl made his way upward.

~Missed you terribly,~ Jazz send all the love and longing he'd felt. ~Sounders and the kids have too.~

~Are they home, or is Soundwave on duty tonight?~ Prowl asked, moving faster at the longing he felt over the bond, intent on joining his lover on the balcony.

~He's on duty. I asked him to give me tonight,~ Jazz's words were tinged with gratitude. ~I ... we need to talk.~

The quiet whisper of a door as Prowl stepped out on the balcony, sweeping Jazz into is arms, joy at holding Jazz once more topmost in his thoughts, but with it an undercurrent of concern and old fear.

~Not that kind of talk, love,~ Jazz promised as he turned around for a kiss that drew out long but chaste. ~A good talk, I think. Just serious.~

Reassured, Prowl settled to hold his bonded. ~Inside, so we can talk, or save it for later?~

Jazz wavered. He'd really planned on talking out here, away from the enclosed spaces that they shared. For whatever reason, this balcony had always been _Prowl's_ space, a location that Jazz rarely intruded upon and Soundwave never did.

"Talk out here?" Jazz asked, relaxing in his love's embrace.

"Of course love." Prowl kissed him again before settling down so they could talk comfortably and for however long they needed. ~I'm listening, whenever you are ready.~

Jazz simply relaxed into the comforting embrace and field. He shut off his optics and scanners, allowing the universe to close to what he could feel against his plating. The light breeze. Prowl's warmth. Prowl's EM field.

It gently washed away the doubts that had built up over the last few joors until he was purring softly.

~Sorry, it's just a big deal,~ Jazz murmured when he was sure of himself and his choice once more. ~You've both been so patient with me. I'm finally ready.~

~Jazz...~ Prowl held him closer, hope flaring in his spark as he studied his bonded.

Jazz turned to claim Prowl's mouth, eager and hungry but with no intention of trying for more. ~Bond with Soundwave, when you wish.~

~You are sure?~ Gentle spark searching along the bond, Prowl's need to be sure that Jazz was going to be all right along with love, devotion and the view of the silver mech through Prowl's optics.

A gift from Primus.

~Yes,~ Jazz pushed all his certainty and devotion in reply. ~I'm not saying I'll never have orns and we agree that we'll never be more than the casual lovers we've always been, but I'm ready for you to bond with Soundwave. I'm ready to feel him there.~

Prowl nuzzled him gently, tilting his head to look into Jazz's dark visor. ~Thank you.~

~I love you,~ Jazz smiled in reply.

~I know.~ Prowl kissed him gently, acknowledging the constant in his life, the love that had saved him when he had been ready to give up, and opened his chest plates in offering.

Without hesitation, without even considering it, Jazz opened his chest plates in reply. Joy, anticipation and adoration rushed across the bond as it grew stronger just from the lack of armor between its two halves.

Prowl shifted the smaller mech around in his arms, lining sparks up as gold edged blue light reflected on his bonded, and the emotions from Prowl reflected Jazz's.

~I love you. That will never change.~ Spark case spiraled open, spark already reaching out, and with the knowledge that there was a part there that would always be _only_ for Jazz. ~I love you.~

With a shiver Jazz willingly fell into the merge, not even trying to put words to what Prowl meant to him, what the acceptance and time meant to him. That being allowed to love Prowl and give him what he needed meant to Jazz, Prowl's spark was flooded with Jazz's joy at being ready to give Prowl what he desired.


	44. Escaping the Insanity

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave, Ratchet/Skyfire/Wheeljack  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Slash, Mechpreg talk  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p><strong>At All Costs 44: Escaping the Insanity<strong>

* * *

><p>Prowl wasn't sure that he had ever been more thankful for the familiar route to the home of a friend. It seemed that Jazz and Soundwave had been talking between themselves more than Prowl had known, or they had wanted him to know, since Soundwave had known exactly why Jazz had wanted Prowl all to himself that orn Prowl had returned from Kaon. Not that knowing had lessened the host's delight when Prowl had broached the subject by any means.<p>

For the first time he could remember Prowl wished for times past, when things were simpler. When he had bonded to Jazz there had only been the official paperwork and the announcement to Optimus. Not the ceremony and celebration expected now, when there was time and energy to spare on such things and his intended bonded's rank demanded a pubic ceremony.

It was not every vorn that the First High Priest of Iacon took a bondmate.

All of which added up to the fact that Prowl needed someone to talk to and convince him that this was the way things were supposed to be even though his battle and tactical computers were at odds with the rest of his processor. And that meant a visit to see Ratchet and his bondmates.

He pulled up to the large, heavily reinforced structure on the outer edge of Iacon's rebuilt neighborhoods and transformed. While insanely expensive to own an entire building, the three made good use of it. Wheeljack was the main reason they'd spent so much, of course. Or rather, keeping the population safe from both scientists that Ratchet was bonded to. Yet Ratchet made good use of it as well, teaching and researching his own pet projects in a separate level well shielded from Wheeljack and Skyfire.

It was Wheeljack that greeted Prowl, his finials flashing brightly in greeting. "Good to see you. It's been too long."

"I apologize." Prowl said with a smile as he was ushered in. "It has been a long time since my last visit. I trust that everyone is doing well?"

"Oh yes," Wheeljack flashed excitedly. "Though it had been difficult to get Skyfire to shut up about you. Seems he's fascinating by the decorative choices being made."

Prowl vented softly. "I occasionally question the wisdom of allowing others to plan this, but I fear anything I planned would not be satisfactory."

"They'd love it anyway, but it'd never pass muster," Wheeljack chuckled as they walked through the entry level of the six story building, though with every ceiling tall enough for Skyfire to stretch comfortably, it always seemed much larger. "You're both far too important to get away with the quiet ways we had during the war. But from what I'm hearing, both your mates are enjoying it greatly."

"It's good for them," Ratchet grinned as they joined him on the lift to the top floor and the living quarters. "Gives them something to connect over that you aren't in the middle of."

"A very good thing, and something I am thankful for." Prowl agreed. Anything that had Soundwave and Jazz working together and happy made Prowl's spark sing, and as much as he was dreading the entire process of the public ceremony, this was one of those things.

"But how are the three of you doing?" They would get back around to him soon enough, Prowl was sure, but for a moment he wanted to talk about someone else and something else.

"Trying to talk Skyfire _out_ of going generative and all broody on us," Ratchet cycled his optics in exasperation. "I've got enough work keeping the pair of them repaired. I don't need any self-combusting little fliers darting around the city."

"Aww, but they'd be so cute," Wheeljack teased him.

Prowl hummed in amusement. "And how well is that working for you?" From what he understood, once Seekers and Seeker-kin got that sort of notion in their processor it was _very_ difficult to talk them out of it.

"I'm winning, for the moment," Ratchet grumbled. "Have you talked to your nut-jobs about having some little ones? You've got so much more going on for variables."

"We know ours'll be kindled and Skyfire'll carry, but all three of you are sparked mechs," Wheeljack happily jumped on the topic. "You know I've done a lot of design work for sparked sparklings."

"No." Prowl admitted quietly. "During the war Jazz and I had too much to concentrate on to even worry about sparklings, and then for so long it has been Jazz being able to accept Soundwave..."

He paused, considering all of that before looking at Ratchet again. "Though since the two of them seem set on conspiring when I am not around I cannot say for sure that they have not discussed the possibility between themselves without my knowledge."

Ratchet and Wheeljack shared a look over Prowl's shoulder, and the inventor broke down in snickers.

"Right. So they haven't talked to Jack yet, but Soundwave is a host," Ratchet explained with an exasperated sound. "But I think the real issue is that Jazz and Soundwave are both Ops mechs, and even before that they were both inclined to collect and keep secrets. As long as none of their surprises have been unpleasant, I wouldn't worry about it. It's just them being them."

"I'm not." Prowl assured him. There was no doubt in his spark that either of them would do anything with the intent to hurt or upset him, and even if he eventually might not agree with something they decided regarding him, it hadn't happened yet. "And I would hope that something as serious as creating and raising sparklings is a topic I would be involved with once it passed beyond the realm of casual discussion."

"If they don't I'm going to reintroduce both of them to my wrench collection," Ratchet promised with full fervor as the lift stopped. "Though knowing you as well as I do, I wouldn't be surprised if they came to some agreement before broaching it with you."

"So you won't feel torn between opposing desires," Wheeljack added.

"They do go out of their way to take care of me." Prowl murmured, love for his mates clear in his voice. "I am sure that it will come up eventually."

"What will come up?" Skyfire asked, looking down from the half-floor of the second story that was the berthroom of the triad. "Welcome, Prowl. Feel free to hide here as long as you want."

"Hiding? Is that what I am doing?" Prowl repeated, having to smile at the accurate and blunt description of his actions made by the Seeker-kin. "It is good to see you again Skyfire."

"Yes, you're hiding, and I can't blame you for wanting some time away from the insanity that the preparations must be," Ratchet chuckled and guided them to the living room where Skyfire joined them.

"Mid or highgrade?" Wheeljack called from his way to the kitchen.

"High grade, if you are offering to share." Prowl had no intention of getting overcharged, but relaxed was a state he would rather like to enjoy for a while.

"My own formula," Wheeljack's finials flashed brightly before he disappeared.

"So what else has been going on in your existence?" Ratchet asked as he settled into a comfortable chair next to Prowl.

"Besides attempting to escape the planning for a ceremony and a celebration?" Prowl asked, his tone light. "I have the approval to begin the next stage of reconstruction in Kaon. The improvements will hopefully bring it to a more level existence than with the rest of Cybertron."

"That will go a long way in defusing any efforts to reignite the rebellion," Skyfire nodded agreeably. "How long before it's complete, do you think?"

"The next stage or the entire plan?" Prowl asked, then went ahead and gave him estimates for both anyway. "The next stage may well take three quarters of a century, but it is the foundation for the new city and the entire plan. There are several stages after this one is finished, but the entire project is projected to take less than two centuries to complete."

"Not too bad," Ratchet nodded as Wheeljack joined them with cubes of a shimmering emerald green energon.

"How much improvement has orn to orn existence so far?" Skyfire asked.

"Enough that things are still peaceful, and hopeful." Prowl commented, studying the energon and allowing Ratchet to take a sip of his before Prowl dared try it.

"Which is more than could be said there in a very long time," Skyfire hummed thoughtfully as he enjoyed a small sip of the brew he knew could knock him out in two or three cubes.

When the former CMO sighed appreciatively, Prowl took a chance and sipped cautiously. He vented in appreciation and nodded at Wheeljack. "Excellent, and impressive."

The engineer beamed, his finials flashing bright blue in pleasure.

"There are perks to having a master engineer in the house," Ratchet grinned. "You can't get high grade like this anywhere else."

While Prowl secretly wondered how many mixtures had exploded before Wheeljack settled on this one, and how explosive what he was consuming might be potentially be in the hands of a normal mech, he had to agree. This put all of the homemade highbrew he had tried before to shame.

He might have to see if Wheeljack was willing to trade him some the next time his lovers planned a special evening. Soundwave would certainly appreciate it, at least.

"No, you cannot. And I hope you guard this formula closely," Prowl said.

"Oh, I do," Wheeljack assured him, settling in on Skyfire's lap. "The only mech who's getting it will be my apprentice when they make master engineer."

"As it should be." Prowl agreed, smiling at how content they all were and truly happy for his friends. It was a pleasure to see mechs he knew had all been traumatized by the war apparently healed from much of it by time and each other. It gave him so much more hope for Jazz and Soundwave. Both still had deep psychological scars, that while mending, were a long way from healed.

"So what plans have been set for the ceremony?" Skyfire asked. "Have you done the deed yet?"

Sensor wings twitched, a strange mix of excitement and concern. "Not yet... There were, are, arrangements that need to be made for Jazz. Though it will need to be soon, if we are going to before the ceremony."

He looked at them all in turn. "You are planning to come?"

Ratchet snorted. "Of course. I intend to be front and center."

"You need to be there in case anyone faints," Skyfire snickered playfully.

"Oh no, I am _not_ on call that orn!" Ratchet blustered, even though they all knew he'd help anyone in distress.

"Everyone is invited." Prowl clarified, wanting to be sure they understood. Ratchet might be his oldest friend among them, but Ratchet was now Wheeljack and Skyfire as well, and Prowl wished them all to share in the festivities. "And I will make sure there is another medic present, in the small chance that someone does suffer a glitch."

Prowl anticipated no such problem, but teasing the medic was fun, and Prowl made sure he was looking right at Ratchet when he made the comment.

A playful growl, reminiscent of the real ones once uttered, came as a reply.

"What ceremony base will you be using?" Skyfire asked, his wings twitching in eagerness.

Prowl laughed softly, shaking his helm and taking another sip of his energon before answering. "That would be a question for Jazz or Soundwave, seeing as how they are planning this. I know that Prime is presiding, has to, since he is the only one who ranks Soundwave, but I have not yet been let in on most of what they are planning."

Prowl was sure whatever they were planning would still be too much for him, but it would please the mechs he loved, so he would do whatever they asked of him. "I do trust them to not torture me too much."

"Do yourself a favor and don't ask," Wheeljack suggested with a chuckle. "Between the three of you and Prime presiding, it's bound to be the event of the vorn at least."

"Is Jazz going to be standing with you?" Ratchet suddenly asked.

"No. He will be present, but in the audience. By his own choice." Not by Prowl's, but he understood and appreciated how difficult the whole situation was for Jazz. For Prowl, it was enough that Jazz was going to be present at all, even if not at Prowl's side.

Skyfire's wings flickered in shock, but he quickly settled himself. "It is still that difficult for him?" he asked gently.

"Yes." Prowl murmured, wings pulling in closer to his frame as he sank in his seat. "There are times even now when I feel the flickers of doubt from him, but I fear to ask him again after he has said yes."

Flickers that raised doubt in Prowl, concern that what he was doing was right for his mates. Made him question if more time would help, even if his tactical computer informed him that the potential for the situation to be much better than it was rated very small.

"Prowl, everyone has doubts when they're making this big a change," Ratchet pointed out with a sigh. "Trust Jazz to not be willing to hurt you by suggesting what he's not prepared for. I know you've run helm-on into his stubborn side. I'm fairly sure I know you well enough to say that you haven't asked him about you bonding to Soundwave in a very long time."

Prowl had to smile. "You know me far to well. Not since we bonded. Every time the subject has been raised since then, Jazz has initiated the discussion."

"And you've been reasonably content to have Soundwave as a lover and part of your home," Ratchet pressed forward.

"I-yes?" Prowl sat up, smile gone and slightly confused as to where Ratchet was going with this.

"Then there is no reason for Jazz to have offered to let you and Soundwave bond if he wasn't ready," Ratchet pointed out.

Wings flicked again and settled. "I know. It is just hard to remember when I can still feel the doubts in him."

"It's hard to let go," Ratchet's tone softened. "It's only after that you realize you weren't actually giving anything up."

Another sip of the high grade, longer and deeper, before Prowl settled. "I hope you are right."

"I am," Ratchet said firmly. "You will see."

"Are you going to go somewhere for the bond to settle?" Wheeljack asked.

"The initial plan is to stay here. Jazz...is going to stay somewhere else. Nothing is set yet though." Prowl replied, brightening a little at the subject.

"With Prime would be a good choice," Ratchet suggested. "He can deal with anything Jazz ends up facing, including Jazz's other selves. I know they couldn't be completely wiped, for all we tried. He was too adaptable, incorporated too much of them into his own memories and coding."

"That is what we were thinking. What is left is determining a time when Optimus can keep an optic on him." Prowl flinched. It hurt, the idea that his bonded needed a keeper and that Prowl was the reason. Best to be safe instead of sorry though, instead of Jazz alone, or worse with someone who could not contain him.

"The other reason we are not planning to go too far is because we are not sure how I am going to react," Prowl admitted.

That raised Ratchet's optic ridge. "That I wasn't expecting, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The first hub bond is always the most uncertain. It's always a little risky with how the existing bondmates might react," he murmured before sipping his energon and pulling up a few more relevant files. "It's extremely rare for it to go badly, especially not when the three are as close as the three of you are. I'd be much more concerned if your mates weren't lovers too, even if it's largely casual."

"So we concluded as well. And led us to decide that Jazz should be close. In case I need him, if nothing else." Prowl had long ago adjusted to Jazz being absent for long periods of time, but never when such critical changes were happening in his spark.

As the center of the bonds, the last thing Prowl wanted was one of the bonds to become unstable, as small as the chance was.

Pushing that aside he smiled. "We are not really worried, but we all like to be prepared. And I function much better when I have a plan to work with, as you have often pointed out."

"You and Soundwave both," he chuckled. "It's Jazz that likes to improvise. Times like this I wish Jazz liked me better. It's odd being so disconnected with one of your mates. He's not going to forgive me though. Can't really blame him either."

"Give him some time and he might come around to being at least social." Prowl commented, well aware of his mate's continual dislike of the medic. It was one of the few things that he and Jazz did not see optic to optic on, and the silver mech simply tolerated the friendship that Prowl relied so heavily on.

Ratchet nodded. "I'm not expecting it. Mech's got every right to hate me, even if I was doing it for his own good. His existence was miserable every time he saw me," he vented and shook his helm. "But you know all that from his point of view. He's a proud mech and he has every right to be, even if some of what he did to himself as a matter of course drove me ballistic."

"I know." Prowl agreed softly. Ratchet was right, his mate was a proud mech, and he had every right to be, rising from what he had been sparked as into what he was now.

"You know, you do too Prowl," Skyfire said. "All three of you have made something very impressive of yourselves from beginnings that no one would have thought possible for you to come from."

An embarrassed flutter of his wings, and quiet pride for his lovers. "I know. And hopefully others will be able to realize a future such as we have been given."

"Many will," Wheeljack's finials flashed in pleasure. "I'm already training mechs who had been sparked or kindled to castes that could never become an engineer or inventor before the war. A couple are truly gifted at it too. They're be a great asset in the future, and would have been a great loss if the laws hadn't been changed."

"We're almost the odd ones out," Ratchet chuckled and motioned to his mates and himself. "Prime was sparked a dock worker. You a low level city planner. Jazz a mid-level pleasurebot. Soundwave a host. Red Alert was a _glitch_ begging on the street. So much of the upper command and VIPs of the new government came from beginnings that are still hard to wrap my processors around."

"Even more odd, perhaps, since you are all free of the prejudices that many seem to have. I still am met with surprise and distrust by some when they find out my original function." Prowl considered. "But there are some who have managed to move on."

"Being close to Prime helps," Ratchet said. "Being a medic and knowing programming the way I do helps too. I _know_, medically, that there is nothing inherently limited in pre-programmed or caste mechs."

"Just blame Seeker coding here," Skyfire chuckled. "We come from a system that simply doesn't have caste or sparked mechs. Only real prejudice you'll find in most fliers is towards anything that can't fly, or fly as well as you can. We've never cared how or why a grounder came to exist. They're still a grounder, condemned to never know the freedom of flight."

"I may have been kindled by respected engineers, but neither were creative," Wheeljack shrugged. "That I'm more inventor than maintenance engineer came as a surprise to most."

"If there are enough that think like you, or that can overcome the fact that not everyone has wings," Prowl actually smiled at Skyfire, "Then Prime's vision will be easier to bring into reality."

"Unfortunately it's still a stretch for most to view the rotors as equals, much less grounders," Skyfire vented. "The line between pride and prejudice is a fine one and a difficult one to overcome."

"The most effective solution is the one that will never be accepted, fortunately and unfortunately," Ratchet murmured. "So we'll just have to do things the hard way. As long as the next Prime upholds Optimus' ways, it'll happen."

"We can only hope, and do what we can." Prowl murmured, agreeing with Ratchet on both parts. There was no way to justify the banning of the creation of sparked mechs, not when they were fighting for equality. And to ban kindling would never be accepted.

"Does it cause you problems with the fliers? Having grounders as mates?"

"Some," Skyfire acknowledged. "Other Shuttles are fairly accepting. They understand that we have a stronger bond with grounders from our original function of carrying them about. Others are less so, but I'm more likely to be dismissed for being a Shuttle than I am for who I've bonded with. Now, if one of them became a carrier it would be an entirely different situation, but if it happens, it happens," he hugged Wheeljack and cast a loving look at Ratchet.

"Why would that cause a problem?" Prowl frowned, confused and concerned. The happy scene before him was something he treasured. Something he had fought for, similar to what he hoped for himself.

"I'm the Seeker-kin, and by Seeker views I'm the Vision too," Skyfire tried to explain something that wasn't even completely natural to him. "It's simply expected by other fliers, Seeker or not, that I'll be the one to carry."

Prowl hummed, working on making sense of that as well. "Tradition, and coding that you do not have in full?"

The Praxian still did not understand all of the implications of someone besides Skyfire carrying, but he was not going to push the issue when it seemed that the Seeker-kin might not be able to explain. Especially not when both Ratchet and Wheeljack seemed to be fine with the idea of Skyfire being the one to carry.

"Largely tradition, but there is likely some coding since it's unheard of for a non-Vision to carry, or for anything short of a full trine to kindle," he nodded. "I'm sure it's happened, but it would take some serious digging to find it."

The talk drifted into smaller things, Prowl working his way through half the cube of high grade before setting it aside. He needed to quit now, if he wanted to be able to make it back on his own.

And he needed to leave soon, or his mates would be looking for him. A quiet trill from the ceiling, ignored by the others, drew his attention to Laserbeak perched on a beam there.

Scrap that, they'd already come looking for him.

"Does that mean you need to head home soon?" Skyfire chuckled, well aware that Laserbeak had been there almost the entire time Prowl had been.

A small smile from Prowl. "Yes, that means I am expected home soon, but I am sure I have a few more joor to spare."


	45. The Price of Success

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starsheild on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave, Jazz/Optimus Prime  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Slash, Sticky, Tactile, Spark, Bonding  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p><strong>At All Costs 45: The Price of Success<strong>

* * *

><p>Ratchet spared a glance at Jazz during a small lull in Prowl and Soundwave's bonding ceremony, trying to read the mech's state and mood. He was very grateful to find out that Optimus had found the time to devote to Jazz while his lovers created the physical spark bond. Like others, he had doubt many were capable of controlling the pleasurebot if something went seriously wrong.<p>

He also knew that few things could distract Jazz as effectively as the Prime's spike.

At the moment Jazz was standing, watching his bonded become a hub legally. Despite the polish and detailing by Sunstreaker, it was impossible to miss that Jazz needed the support of Mirage's hand on his shoulder and the quiet understanding of the noble that now headed Special Operations for Cybertron.

So much was said of sparked commoners becoming great and doing things they'd never been programmed for. Little was said of the nobles who'd done much the same. Mirage had never been designed to be a spy, much less a sniper or frontline warrior. Yet he excelled at it all, and when given the opportunity to return to his life in the Towers, he had chosen to remain at the Prime's side and to continue to work for his rations.

To Ratchet, that was far more remarkable that mechs who'd been created to work hard doing so in a different context.

~He will be fine,~ Skyfire brushed against his spark with warm certainty. ~They will all do well. If _any_ mechs can make a hub triad work, it is those three.~

~For Prowls sake, I hope so. It would make me feel better if Jazz were standing up there were he belongs, but...~ But the evidence of how hard just watching from here was on Jazz was plain to anyone who knew him well. ~They are close, and past cases have worked out well, but there is still not a lot to go on. Bonds like the one they intend to create are rare just because they are so difficult.~

~I know,~ Skyfire gently rubbed his backstrut with a finger. ~Every mech has their own needs. _Prowl_ wouldn't be up there if given a choice. His bonding with Jazz was much more his style. Personal, low key and completely functional.~

A shift in the crowd as Prime started to speak once more, drawing a great deal of attention to himself simply by being. He spoke of the strengths of the mechs entering into the bond, their love and devotion to each other. Deviating slightly from script, he also spoke of Jazz, of his devotion to Prowl and his blessing to allow his bonded of many vorns to become a hub with a mech he had no interest in. Then back to script by calling the blessing of Primus on the union.

With a smile Ratchet watched as Jazz joined his bonded as the ceremony ended and they descended into the crowd for the expected socialization and gift reception for the new household. This part Jazz was expected to take part in, as it was his household as well.

~Try to smile, you're bonded this orn,~ Jazz teased Prowl as he stepped up to claim a kiss in front of everyone.

A kiss that was willingly given, Jazz pulled close for an embrace as well, and Prowl smiled. ~I have been bonded for many vorns. Only now the entire world knows that soon I will have claim to the two best bondmates on Cybertron.~

Jazz purred and melted into the contact to the amusement and pleasure of those close enough to get a good look at the adoration between the pair and the warm smile on Soundwave's completely exposed face at it.

Prowl kissed him again before tucking the smaller mech against his side, content to have his bonded happy and with him to face the celebration. ~I love you.~

~Love you too,~ Jazz smiled, content to enjoy the closeness and public approval. As agitating as watching the ceremony had been, this was much easier. Prowl's warmth and giddy happiness against him, Soundwave's welcoming happiness behind them and a crowd that was excited for them. It was a good feeling that did much to wash away the worst of Jazz uneasiness about what was happening.

He _knew_ he was doing the right thing, but now he was beginning to _feel_ that he was doing the right thing.

Prowl actually found himself enjoying the festivities, though he was never far from either his bonded or his intended. He thanked the well-wishers sincerely, and admired the gifts given appropriately, all the while counting down the time until he could escape.

"Eager?" Ratchet asked, appearing at Prowl's shoulder later in the celebration and handing the Praxian a cube of midgrade. He knew that this sort of thing was not a favorite of Prowl's, and that the mech often placed duty and necessity over his own comfort.

"To be gone?" Prowl murmured quietly in return. "Yes." For two reasons. To be free of the crowd, yes. But also to finally have his spark right and in balance, to be joined to the two mechs that meant everything to him.

"Only a bit longer," Ratchet smiled and patted his shoulder. "It's an incredible thing to experience when you're completely yourself."

"You would know." Prowl smiled at him, well aware of the struggle it had been for the medic to come to terms with the idea of being part of a trine and not simply bonded, and then how much at peace he had been the next time Prowl had seen him after the bonding.

Not that there hadn't been some rough spots for the three of them, reconciling backgrounds as different as the ones Prowl was dealing with. But for a long time now whenever he'd had been able to observe the three of them together he had found himself quietly longing for what they had. He would probably never have the full triad. Jazz and Soundwave could live together amicably, were compatible lovers not only willing to be in the same berth with Prowl but occasionally shared a berth without Prowl. But they didn't particularly desire each other and by now they were all reasonably sure that they'd never _love_ each other.

Still, it was far more than he'd ever dared hope for in seriousness.

~You can escape anytime now, love,~ Jazz murmured as he pulled Prowl onto the dance floor for a final intimate twirl and hungry kiss. ~Make this bonding everything ours couldn't be.~

Prowl held him close, frame pressed against the smaller mech's and love in his spark. ~A dance for you.~ He kissed him again. ~Our bonding was perfect. I needed you. I will always want you, my love.~

~Mmm, then make this one as perfect as ours was,~ Jazz purred, his warmth and love wrapping around Prowl as they swept around the dance floor with many other couples, trines and the occasional larger group and gestalt. ~You enjoy Soundwave. I have a Prime on my schedule,~ he said teasingly, for all it was serious.

~Then I should have a very relaxed and content Prime by the time I return to work, and should be able to get much accomplished.~ Prowl teased in return.

As the song drew to a close, Prowl kissed him deeply. ~I will. And then we will return to you.~

Jazz welcomed and melted into the kiss and contact before they separated just enough to leave the dance floor. ~Have a good bonding, love,~ Jazz whispered across their bond before muting it as he handed Prowl off to Soundwave and turned to find Prime.

The large mech was difficult to miss, even among the crowd, and especially when he seemed to be looking for Jazz as well now that Soundwave could easily be seen as leaving.

"Have your socializing quota in, boss?" Jazz chirred playfully, forcing himself not to acknowledge what was coming in public.

"If you are ready to leave the festivities that I am sure are going to carry on for quite some time yet." Optimus replied, studying the smaller mech to get a gauge on just how Jazz was doing. To most, he was his usual, cheerful, teasing self. To the Prime who knew him well, he was an emotional wreck waiting to happen. He had no doubt Jazz would need him before the bonding was over.

"Quite ready to leave," Jazz nodded. "Before the action starts for them."

"Out of the public optic." Optimus murmured softly, understanding. He motioned away from the celebration, towards the palace where he now resided, and the place where Jazz was going to make a temporary residence.

They transformed and drove the relatively short distance, then transformed to walk to Prime's grand suite. It was a familiar place to Jazz, one of comfortable times with friends, pleasure with Optimus and security when he needed it. It was a safe place with a safe mech.

"Yours, for as long as you need to stay." Optimus offered, entire frame speaking of sincere welcome and offering the warmth of a friend.

"Thank you," Jazz's sincerity was matching as he reached for Optimus, only to moan softly. His field flared sharply in surprise and intense desire that was only partly his own. "They sure didn't wait," he shuddered as he struggled to mute the feedback a bit more.

"You didn't expect them to." Optimus pointed out, field expanding to brush against Jazz, voice dropping to a suggestive rumble. "Which is why you are here, with me, is it not?"

"No, yes," Jazz moaned and gave up at the invitation. He turned and got both his hands on Optimus' hips, grounding himself with the solid frame as pleasure, desire and sensations bombarded him from Prowl. He placed a longing kiss on the spike cover right at his optic level and swirled his glossa over the sensitive metal.

A deeper rumble of appreciation traveled through the larger mechs frame, carrying over to Jazz as the cover slid away. "Whatever you want. Whatever you need. Take it and welcome."

Jazz groaned as his lip plates closed around the emerging head of the large spike, memories supplied just how _good_ it felt stretching his valve and the incredibly powerful spark that so often enveloped his once their chests were even.

"Good. Very good." Purring praise as large hands teased at Jazz's helm and sensor horns, the smile on the Prime's face genuine, both from the pleasure and the company of the mech providing it. As his spike extended and began to pressurize the slick heat and skilled lavishing of Jazz's glossa only encouraged it while Jazz's field encouraged Optimus to take, to use, to claim Jazz's frame in every way possible.

Purr gave way to a low growl, hips rolling into the pleasure being offered and taken as touches changed, became firm and more demanding. Some would see it as taking advantage of Jazz's need, but those closest to him knew that it was for the silver mechs sake that he was here. Those who knew, knew that little appealed to Jazz more than being used, dominated and taken for another's pleasure. It wasn't just from coding, it was the mech's very spark.

Jazz's field flared and begun to weave into his lover's, pouring all the enjoyment and pleasure he received into Optimus'.

The mech he was with now was willing to do all of that, moans growing louder as the charge built, multiplied by the added knowledge that Jazz was getting as much pleasure from what he was doing as the one he was pleasuring, and a willing distraction for the mech when he needed it most.

By the time Optimus was on the edge of overload, so was Jazz. The silver mech trembled with the charge roaring through him, the echoes of Prowl's pleasure and the coding pleasure at the response he was eliciting from his partner.

Then the roar of release from the large mech as overload overcame him and his current partner. Even with overload roaring through him from multiple sources, Jazz eagerly swallowed the thick transfluid. Only a few drops dribbled down his neck from the corners of his mouth.

With a quick release came a quick recovery and Optimus lifted Jazz in his arms, bringing the small mech level to claim his lips, the offer of the spiking and the merge Jazz so favored clear in the kiss and his field.

Jazz's reply was just as silent but far more intense as his need shifted from a surprise flash of pleasure-arousal from his bond to the honest kind from himself. He moaned and gripped Optimus' shoulder armor as the kissed heatedly. His valve cover long since retracted, he unlocked his chest plates, though he didn't spread them yet.

"Please," Jazz pleaded, desperate to be distracted from the sensations and emotions flooding him from his spark. "Can't take this."

Large hands gripped Jazz's hips, holding the smaller mech steady as spike pressed into the waiting valve. He took a few steps to press Jazz's back against the nearest wall, pinning the minibot between the hard surface and his own powerful frame. The shift in Jazz's arousal to a more honest frequency felt nearly as good as the tight, slick heat around his spike as Jazz's valve tightened and sought to draw him in deeper.

Capturing Jazz's mouth with his own Optimus thrust in deeper, chest plates parting in reply to the pleading, taking as much pleasure as he could from what was being offered. Jazz would see this through, and Optimus would be there with him.

Their moans vibrated through the room as Jazz's chest plates opened and his spark reached out for Prime's, desperate for the calmness and soothing nature of the multi-hued spark.

Even with just their coronas touching, Optimus fully grasped what was driving Jazz to such a state. As strong as his shields were, they'd crumbled against the onslaught that was Prowl and Soundwave's merged spark energy. It wasn't even at the bonding stage yet, but with all of Prowl's shields gone, Jazz's couldn't take the strain. He was _there_ whether he wanted to be or not.

It was all Jazz could do not to scream in frustration bordering on pain he refused to allow to flow back to his bonded.

Optimus pressed him against the wall, grounding the smaller mech any way he could as he offered the full strength of his spark to ease what he could of the pain of the mech in his arms. It was a welcome sensation; the greedy way Jazz embraced it, gave in to the distraction and the Prime-induced peace with a shuddering moan of relief.

Soft whimpers escaped Jazz as his spark and systems settled at the enforced but welcome calmness, but it was his spark and field that Optimus felt the most. It wasn't even pleasure that dominated their engagement anymore; it was a mixture of relief and a desperate hold onto the sanctuary Prime's spark offered.

It couldn't last forever though, or even long enough to outlast the couple now sharing their bonding night together.

All Prime could hope was that it would be enough to ease the pain and to see Jazz through until he could return him to his bonded and truly ease his spark.

* * *

><p>Optimus on-lined slowly, his frame sore in the most enjoyable ways and his spark finely tuned to the small mech curled up tightly against his side. He was about half way through the sequence when it registered that Jazz wasn't in recharge, he was twitching and whimpering softly in near-stasis. Yet the Prime's spark and Matrix were both calm about it.<p>

As soon as he could Optimus reached out, stroking the silver mech gently, field reaching out to try and share the calm that suffused every inch of his frame. Jazz's field responded, latching on in a clear display of how much Jazz desired the calm, though the move also opened Optimus up to the pain trying to shred Jazz's spark from the conflict between the balance he and Prowl had come to and the new, if unsteady balance in Prowl's spark with the fresh bond with Soundwave tugging him in another direction.

Prime shifted, pulling the smaller mech flush against his frame to share and waited for Jazz to become coherent enough to speak and maybe work through some of the pain and unsure in his spark.

It was a longer wait that he had hoped for, nearly a full breem before Jazz's systems and field indicated more-or-less full awareness.

"Th' bondin' took," was the first thing Jazz managed to mumble.

"A good thing." Optimus commented gently, hands still running over the silver frame in soothing waves.

"Yeah," Jazz didn't sound convinced, but the fluctuations in his spark were more than enough to cover why. "I'm gonna be off my game big time til I can frag him good."

"Which is only to be expected." Understanding and compassion filled the deep voice. Prowl was the same way, the Praxian had once confessed to him, desperate to merge with his mate after Jazz had serviced a client in such a manner, no matter that Prowl understood that it was part of Jazz's function.

It had been hard for the Praxian to adjust to at the beginning, despite the strength and stability of their bond, and a problem that he had seen coming this time. "And you will be able to soon enough, when I deliver you back to your bonded and family."

Jazz purred at that, eager and happy at the thought. "I do like Soundwave, you know," he murmured with a soft smile as he snuggled against Optimus' chest. "Can we stay here for a while? Your spark feels good, helps the pain."

"Of course." Optimus wrapped an arm around him, comfortable but close. "We can stay as long as you like. I have energon when you desire some as well. You just need to speak."

A moment of silence as Prime contemplated the rest of Jazz's words. "It is good to know that your relationship with Soundwave is more than one of mere tolerance."

"Nah, we've been pretty good with each other since 'for the war, 'for Echo even," Jazz chuckled. "I knew'm before, back when he was just a comm specialist, just a host doing his given function and I was still indentured to the brothel. War strained it, but with my new function I never really lost touch with him. Mech did a lot to help me buy myself, you know. Nothing like huge tips or anything, but he knew folks, made sure I always had good tipping clients. Helped me invest my early credits too."

Optimus hummed thoughtfully. "But never someone you desired for yourself?"

"No more than my coding has me desire anyone," Jazz said easily. "He's a nice berth-warmer, a good frag, a good _mech_, but that's about it."

"Prowl was different."

"Prowl wasn't about my coding," Jazz murmured, his frame still as his spark soaking in the soothing nature of the Prime spark so close to his. "He could have been orders, but he wasn't. I don't understand how that line was crossed, how I could love. I'm not sure I ever really cared. Just glad it happened. Real glad I got him first."

"It made that much of a difference?" Prime asked, honestly curious. Prowl would have never given up Jazz, or the fight to have Jazz.

"I would have been gone the orn he bonded, right along with my mission," Jazz murmured. "I don't have it in me to be the one _joining_ a hub. I can barely handle letting Soundwave in. Maybe I'd still be his lover, but we'd have nothing like what developed while he was an Autobot, and _alone_. He'd never have been vulnerable, never _needed_ me like he did."

Prime moved to gently run his hand along the smaller mech, meant to be comforting and soothing, understanding. "But he was not, and he is yours."

"Yes," Jazz released the tension that had built up, grateful once more that Primus was kind and hid all his current suffering from Prowl. There would be time to catch up and soothe it later. Right now Prowl needed to focus on Soundwave and their all-too-new bond. "Think I'm ready for that energon, boss."

Optimus sat up, holding the smaller mech against him with ease and handed Jazz the promised energon. He wished there was something more that he could do for his friend, something to smooth the new transition in his life so that it did not hurt at all.

"You're doing a lot, Optimus," Jazz looked up at him with sincerity as he accepted the cube and began to drink. "Some things require pain. This really is nothing compared to the last couple times I went through a major life change."

"And Prowl will be better for it as well." Optimus said quietly. It was a truth, possibly a painful one for Jazz as Prowl's bonded, but the truth. Having his mate finally in balance would be a good thing for Jazz as well.

"Yes, he needs this. I don't have to understand it to understand what his spark has been begging for longer than we've been together," Jazz murmured, the fingers of one hand playing over Optimus' chest plates as he drank. "They've both given me everything I needed to be ready, more than I had any real right to demand, but they gave it anyway. A little pain is a fair price for Prowl to have what he needs. It'll be over in a few orns. I've been through much worse in the name of training."

"Your mate loves you." Optimus smiled at him, taking a cube of energon for himself and settling more comfortably on the berth and tried a little different track. "So do you three have plans for the future now?"

Jazz chuckled. "This is Prowl we're talking about, not to mention Soundwave. Plans aplenty. Really though, nothing spectacular. Prowl and Soundwave are both utterly lacking in ambition. They just want to serve and do it well, something you're letting them do. Their plans mostly involve how to continue to do so. I'm pretty content too, being what I am." He looked at his energon before sipping it. "I've got some drive to better my status, but it's mostly settled now, ya know? I'm my own owner, I can and do refuse clients that want what I don't want to do and I've got Prowl at home to help me through the memory drifts and purges when they happen. I've got a better existence than I ever thought I would. I miss the action a little, but not the killing." He chuckled softly. "I really did enjoy sneaking around and hacking systems. It was a lot of fun."

"You could always speak to Mirage, if it would not upset Prowl too much." Optimus pointed out thoughtfully. "He might appreciate your skills for some things."

"It wouldn't," Jazz answered with a hum. "As long as I'm not upset, he's fine. He's good with me being a pleasure bot. Hacker and burglar in the service of the Prime? No problem at all."

"Then you should discuss it with him once everything has settled down again." Optimus said, finishing off his first cube of energon and starting on a second one.

"Mmm, I will," Jazz snuggled close to the spark giving his so much comfort. "How is Mirage doing? I haven't crossed paths with him in a while."

"Well," Prime answered, moving on to other subjects. "The position seems to suit him. You chose your replacement well."

"Thanks, boss," Jazz grinned up before finishing his energon. His touch soon turned sensual, asking silently for pleasure once more.

Optimus finished his second cube and vanished it with an agreeable purr, his entire attention turning on Jazz and the needs of the mech in his care.

* * *

><p>Prowl barely managed to contain himself until he and Soundwave reached their home, empty without Jazz or any findable symbiots around, but perfect for the couple to consummate and stabilize their new bond.<p>

His spark was singing with joy and anticipation of something that it had been longing for longer than Prowl was even conscious of. He turned to Soundwave, reaching for the host before the door had finished locking and was swept up in the much larger mech's arms.

"Prowl: energon or pleasure first?" Soundwave trembled in anticipation as he carried his bonded to the berth room they usually shared with Jazz.

Prowl kissed him, the desire for pleasure radiating from him as Soundwave kissed him back heatedly. They had both been sure to fuel during the celebration in anticipation of what was to come. "Pleasure. Enough waiting." He finally demanded just before he was laid gently on the berth.

Soundwave climbed on the soft, supportive surface to hover over him, taking in the wanton Praxian spread out under him like an offering for a moment of anticipation, taking care to record this to very high definition in his memories.

"Prowl: beautiful," Soundwave trembled in desire, lowering himself to mingle their EM fields as they kissed.

An eager field wove with his own, welcoming and almost demanding as their lips met, Prowl moaning wonderfully. Skillful hands teased over the host's frame, the Praxian not holding anything back.

A low moan came in response. With a sudden change of intent Soundwave pulled Prowl close to his chassis and rolled over, leaving their chest armor and sparks very close as the host unlocked his chest plates.

There was an answering intent from Prowl as the Praxian pressed against the host. ~Love you. Wanted you like this for so long. Want to be _with_ you forever.~

A sound of static and agreement came from Soundwave as he opened his chest plates, offering his spark to the one he'd desired to join with since he'd called it from the Well. ~Prowl's: forever,~ Soundwave promised. ~Soundwave: Prowl's since Soundwave first touched Prowl's spark.~

Prowl held to him tightly, actions mirroring Soundwave's as he stopped thinking about anything else. Stopped worrying or caring about anything besides the spark so close to his own and his desire for it.

He had waited vorns for this, for the chance to complete his spark and make it whole, survived a war and separation to arrive at this moment.

~Complete me.~ He begged.

~Always, my love,~ Soundwave's distinctive voice pattern melted as their sparks merged, both in too much of a hurry to bond to bother with the formalities of interfacing or arousal first. ~Always. Forever. Yours-mine-one!~

Memories of resent vorns flashed by, noted but largely without interest as previous merges had shared them before.

Prowl cried as their sparks wove together, blissful pleasure filling every inch of his frame at the first touch that he craved.

The loss of the sense of individual self, fading as their sparks blended, intense but not frightening in the least because it was right and both desired it so much. A fractional thought of Jazz, of relief that here was someone willing and able to help him through this, flickered from one half of the few whole to the other, shared and agreed on.

Even so deep inside weaving into each other, neither forgot the absent member.

Emotion swirled between them. All of the love Prowl felt for Soundwave, everything he felt for the host laid bare. The need for the other that had existed the entire time he had been functioning, even when he didn't know what it was.

Soundwave's spark-deep gratitude to Primus for that spark that became Prowl, the mech with him now. A matching gratitude that Prowl had grown into a strong, independent and skilled mech that still desired the host through absence, lies, a bond, war and so much pain.

The loved that Prowl felt for Soundwave that was born of his own desires, a sensation matched and returned from Soundwave.

The adoration and thankfulness for everything that Soundwave had allowed Jazz, for the fact that Soundwave had never tried to keep them apart and had been so accepting of the bond.

Gratitude that Prowl had never turned his back to Soundwave despite Jazz being there and Soundwave absent. Adoration of Prowl that he welcomed both bonds in his life and worked so hard to create a cohort. Gratefulness towards Jazz for not insisting on his rightful claim as the only one to claim Prowl as lover. Respect for Jazz that he was permitting this.

Thankfulness that Soundwave had been willing to forgive him for his weakness and that they were here now, and that Prowl would never have to know that pain again.

Insistence that Prowl was not weak, that he was a very strong mech and had every right to be proud of himself and his accomplishments.

Insistence, too, that Prowl would never again know the pain of separation or loss. At least not for long.

All of that flowed around the physical joining as two sparks wove into one, creating a permanent imprint that would tie the pair together for as long as they both functioned and far beyond it in the Well.

Pleasure so intense it boarded on pain as it overwhelmed them both, mutual desire finally calmed with the blessing of Primus.

* * *

><p>By the fourth orn Optimus found that it was only his Prime voice that could calm Jazz enough to keep him from reclaiming Prowl too soon, and that was a near thing. The silver mech was twitchy and uncomfortable no matter what was done, so they were both grateful when Ratchet commed to say that Prowl and Soundwave's bond was stable enough for Jazz to rejoin them.<p>

It was only by the grace of Primus, and Prime using his authority to clear the route ahead of them, that Jazz drove himself home without hitting anyone. They were both keenly aware of how strained his spark was. Jazz wasn't in a state to pay enough attention to anything other than reaching Prowl, and nearly fritzed waiting for the lift to take him up.

He flung his side of the bond wide open as the lift stopped, desperate for the Praxian to meet him at the lift door.

His wish was granted, Prowl sweeping the mech into his arms and kissing him possessively, desperately, as soon as Jazz had cleared the lift doors. With the bond open between them now it was clear that it was not just Jazz's need that was making him react so.

~Spark,~ Jazz gasped across their bond, his chest plates already opening. That single word carried all the desire and love as well as his physical need to reset and reestablish their bond now that Prowl's spark had changed with the addition of Soundwave in it.

~Yours.~ Prowl gasped, taking only a moment to find a place to settle before offering his spark in answer. He wanted, needed this almost as much as Jazz did as his spark sought to balance the different pulls.

The merge was fast, hard and deep, leaving both mechs shaking as they cried out in pain, in bliss, in intense relief and finally in arousal as their sparks and processors caught up with four orns apart. Every moment was shared, every thought, just as when they first bonded. Only this time it was not to learn, but to adjust; to keep the older, potent bond from tearing Prowl's spark apart in an effort to become a hub for the first time.

~Love you,~ both sparks swirled around each other, sharing energy and welcoming the change to them both to find their new balance.


	46. Epilogue

**Fandom**: Transformers G1/Bayverse  
><strong>Author<strong>: gatekat and starshield on LJ  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Jazz/Prowl/Soundwave, Ratchet/Skyfire/Wheeljack  
><strong>Rating<strong>: Nc-17 mech/mech  
><strong>Codes<strong>: Slash, Sparklings, Sticky, Tactile, Spark  
><strong>Summary<strong>:  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles  
>~text~ bondhardline talk  
>::text:: comm chatter<p>

* * *

><p><strong>At All Costs 46: Epilogue<strong>

* * *

><p>Ratchet looked out over the joyful scene and couldn't help but smile. It wasn't a terribly large party, mostly close friends of the triad, but that was how it should be when one was introducing the newest members of ones family.<p>

Long gone was the apprehension and fear that had settled on the medic when Skyfire had announced that he was indeed carrying. The stress and cautious happiness had resulted in the creation of three perfectly healthy sparklings, now old enough to be introduced to their Prime and the friends that Ratchet was certain would have a hand in raising them.

A supervised hand, the medic amended as his optics passed over the silver mech currently snuggled against an attractive Praxian frame, but involved. Prowl had been right about his mate at least being willing to be in the same room as Ratchet again, given enough time. Jazz had not even tried to get out of the invitation to attend the party, and looking at him now Ratchet finally believed that Prowl had not had to coax or manipulate his mate into attending.

Ratchet spared another moment to study Prowl, checking him over again for his own satisfaction. The hub bond had taken time and stressed all three of the mechs involved, but now that it had fully settled the change in Prowl was amazing. There was an honest light and joy in the Praxian now, balanced between his two mates as he was and finally at peace. He laughed more, and more easily, and while his work was as punctual and complete as always, he no longer seemed to function merely to fulfill his programming.

His gaze slid over to the third member of the unusual bond, who was currently talking in quiet tones with Optimus. Soundwave's state was much improved as well, though it took a knowing optic to pick it up. The longing he'd had since Prowl came on line was finally and completely settled and his Prime approved of his work. It was good seeing an old friend doing so well.

The symbiots, those that had been permitted to attend, were quietly keeping to shadows. Ravage and Laserbeak had promised to behave, and had the self-control to keep that promise. Buzzsaw was not likely to cause problems even when he was newly sparked unless Soundwave was attacked. Rumble and Frenzy had been left to their own devices at home with the warning that any destruction or trouble would result in the loss of privileges that they would rather not risk.

Prowl had actually been good for them as well, providing a stern but fair hand when their creator could not discipline, and Jazz made sure that they got away with nothing he didn't approve of.

Ironhide was shadowing his Prime, looking stern even though everyone knew he was having a good time.

There were others scatted around, socializing and creating a friendly scene and atmosphere. Friends and coworkers, mechs that had bonded through a dark time in Cyberton's history and emerged stronger on the other side, together.

Even Mirage, normally either silent or stuck up, had an easy manner about him as he stepped up to chat with Jazz over Prowl's shoulder. Probably about Jazz's part time duties in Intel from the flick of Prowl's sensor wing.

The Praxian settled quickly enough when Jazz laughed playfully at his irritation. With a small huff Prowl nuzzled affectionately at his mate before untangling their frames skillfully and rising to mingle some with the other guests, stopping to talk with Optimus and be wrapped in Soundwave's embrace.

Jazz looked their way, but smiled and turned back to chatting his Mirage as Fireflight came up to them to join into a less business-like conversation. It was all enough to bring a smile to Ratchet's face.

It went on for a little longer, the guests moving among themselves and socializing, but the looks being cast at the hosts and the anticipation of the reason for gathering was only rising.

~Are they ready, Skyfire?~ Ratchet asked his mate, who was the one really nervous about this. It marked the end of his sole possession of the sparklings as caretaker and he was understandably reluctant.

~They are ready.~ Skyfire replied, taking a moment to pull himself together. These were trusted friends, mechs who would look out for his creations as if they were their own.

~I just need to convince myself that I am ready to let go of them.~

~I know, love,~ Ratchet sent gentle reassurance and felt Wheeljack do the same. ~You know we won't ask you to leave them with others until you're ready.~

~Then you are going to be waiting a long time.~ Came the reply, but calm now and full of teasing. ~Let me know when everything is ready and I will bring them out.~

~We're ready,~ Ratchet chuckled. Truth was, none of them were ready to leave them alone with anyone anytime soon. But this was a first step, a needed step with kindled sparklings.

~Coming.~ Skyfire responded, emerging into the party with three small frames balanced easily in large, strong arms. He stopped as all optics settled on him and the curious but compliant creations in his arms. He smiled as his mates came to join him for the presentation and had to steel his nerves once more, getting a firm hold on the carrier protocols that wanted to keep his creations near and safe.

~You'll do fine,~ Ratchet assured Skyfire. He smiled up at the deep red form of Trimo staring down at him, delighted that one of them seemed to take after him already.

"Friends and kin," Skyfire began, his voice low and rough as he struggled with the words that would officially present his littlest ones to the world. "My clutch of three are ready to see those outside their creator's nest. The optic blinding one is Shimmerfire," he allowed Wheeljack to take the squirming little femme that was already half her creator's height.

Wheeljack got her turned around so that everyone could get a proper view, finally setting her on her pedes and supporting her with a gentle hand between her wings as she starred at the gathered mechs. Her optics found Prime and remained there, her wings twitching in curiosity and attraction to the powerful aura.

Optics took her in welcomingly before traveling back to the waiting sparklings and their carrier.

"The dark red one is Trimo," the shuttle smiled and allowed the calmest of their creations to jump into Ratchet's arms and be settled on his pedes to face the gathering with a trill and click of welcome to the strangers.

Smiles all around and polite answering clicks greeted the sparkling, then eager attention on the last sparkling, waiting for the final introduction.

~That one's going to be trouble,~ Jazz grinned at the tiny, lithe black sparkling even as he commented to Prowl. ~Got Ops written all over'em.~

The black sparkling growled back, flaring a wingspan that was smaller than Jazz's arm span from her carrier's arms.

~I trust your judgment on the matter.~ Prowl murmured as he wrapped an arm around the smaller mech. Though he had to agree with his mate's assessment. ~Interesting, considering who her creators are.~

~She's heavy on the Seeker from Skyfire, and you know Ratchet's got a temper,~ Jazz continued to check out the small black flier. ~She sure _looks_ like she's pure Seeker. Acts like it too. An Action in the making.~

~Hush, little one,~ Skyfire soothed her until she settled her wings back in place.

"The feisty one is Nightshade," Skyfire introduced her. "She's more rumble than fire for now."

Greetings and congratulations were being offered all around to new sparklings and their proud creators. None of the youngsters were shy in the least, though Shimmerfire was difficult to distract from Prime for long and Nightshade continued to flare and growl at anyone she did not approve of coming near her or her siblings.

::You know you aren't recruiting anymore,:: Mirage's amusement was clear over the private comm.

::I can still look,:: Jazz shock back with a grin. ::You know she'd raise up to be a first rate sniper and shadow guard.::

::Yes, she would. However, we are not going to raise her,:: Mirage reminded him firmly. ::Her creators would not tolerate such an approach.::

::Yes, yes, I know,:: Jazz flashed him a grin.

~We don't need to raise sparklings like that anymore.~ Prowl commented, silently wishing his friends the best of luck with raising their little one. ~By the grace of Primus we will never have to again.~

The Praxian was still, hiding how much it troubled him, the numbers and scenarios his battle computer presented him with, looking at the three sparklings. Shimmerfire was safe enough in his processor, but the other two...

If the war was not over their futures would have been far different and far darker than the bright road that stretched out before them now.

~Stop it Prowl,~ Jazz said firmly with Soundwave's silent backing. ~The war is over. We'll be _old_ mechs before it can build up again even if Prime fails.~

~I'd really rather you not even suggest that.~ Prowl grumbled, but there was good humor under the seriousness of his comment. ~I know. It just still hasn't set in yet.~

It might never set in to the point that his battle and tactical computers would stop spitting out the numbers and scenarios to him. But someday it might reach the point where Prowl would be able to stop paying attention to them like this.

~And I'll stop. This is _their_ orn. It should be a happy one.~

~It will be,~ Jazz leaned in to kiss Prowl's side as they stepped forward to greet the future; the first creations of their circle since the war.

* * *

><p>Prowl stood on the lift with his mates, arm and a sensor wing folded around Jazz while he leaned back against Soundwave's strong frame. They were all content after a long orn. It had been a good orn, welcoming the creations of some of his closest friends into functioning and society. It had been a good orn for Prowl especially, because it had been evidence, tangible before him, of what he had fought for. He had fought so that his friends could live in a world where it was safe for them to create, and where they could raise their creations in peace.<p>

"You're unusually happy," Jazz purred as the lift stopped and opened to their penthouse suite.

"It was a good orn." Prowl responded, nuzzling at Jazz affectionately before stealing a kiss. "Is my mood a bad thing?" he teased.

"It's a good thing," Jazz chuckled before reaching up for another kiss as they stepped into their home. "Have you ever wanted some of your own?"

"Sparklings?" Prowl asked, considering. "I would not object to having a creation or two to care for, if we all agree and are ready to rearrange our functionings again."

~What about you?~ He murmured, blatantly curious.

"We still have two of Sounder's," Jazz snickered. ~Like you, wouldn't mind it, but not that inclined towards it.~

"Rumble and Frenzy: as mature as they will become." Soundwave offered with amusement. "Soundwave: would like one more."

"Another symbiot?" Prowl asked, optics traveling around the room following Ravage as she made her usual inspection after being gone.

"Affirmative. Soundwave: desires a proper number. Resources: now available to support six."

~We do have the resources now, and the time.~ Prowl murmured in agreement, arms wrapped around Jazz as he surveyed the loft and already began planning the changes to accommodate one more.

"New symbiots: always sparked in full frames. Personality matrix development: comparable to Skyfire's clutch."

Sensor wings flicked gently into waiting, stroking hands. "I see no reason to not expand, now or whenever you are ready."

"New symbiot: soon then. In six vorns?"

"I'm game," Jazz trilled as his fingers found the gaps in Prowl's hip armor. "What will it be?"

"Design: quadruped distance runner."

"A nice compliment to the others, and to Ravage?" Prowl managed around the distraction that they were so skillfully providing.

"Affirmative," Soundwave rumbled. "Enough taking. Interface desired by all." He pointed out as he leaned down to kiss the side of Prowl neck while Jazz nuzzled Prowl's spike cover.

Prowl could only moan in agreement, caught between his bondmates and with no desire to escape as he tilted his head to allow Soundwave better access. His field spread out, weaving easily with his lovers. They replied in turn, all three fields soon entwined with pleasure flowing freely between them.

"Open up, love," Jazz moaned against Prowl's spike cover, his desire to envelope the length in his mouth bright and clear across both bond and field.

Prowl had long ago given up trying to figure out how Jazz found so much pleasure in doing this, and simply retracted the cover of his spike. It was hard not to, when giving into his bonded felt so good. His spike quickly began to pressurize into Jazz's mouth, encouraged by a skilled glossa and long familiarity with the bliss this would bring.

At the same time one of Soundwave's tentacles curled around to stroke Prowl's valve cover to request entrance while large hands stroked the Praxian's sensor wings in long, slow sweeps of tingling pleasure.

Soft whimpers escaped from Prowl, the designations of his bonded falling from him easily, pleading as his entire frame started to quiver. He was sure he'd have dropped to his knees if they weren't both supporting him.

Valve cover retracted as Prowl pushed the bonds wide open, all of the pleasure he was feeling flowing back to his lovers, his bondeds, the sparks that made his own complete. They returned his love, his joy in their respective bonds, their pleasure and joy at making him feel so _good_.

Jazz sucked on his spike, glossa, lips and intake lighting off pleasure sensors while Jazz's field and spark pulsed with the intense pleasure-gratification he gained from the feeling of a hard spike sliding along the sensors in his mouth.

Behind Prowl, Soundwave knelt. With his hands still caressing Prowl's sensor wings and strong tentacles holding him against Soundwave's chest, the host withdrew the tentacle from Prowl's valve and gently pressed his spike into it with a deep, resonant moan.

Desire-pleasure-wonder from Prowl as he stopped thinking, keening softly in encouragement. His hands moved over Jazz, tweaking gently his smaller mate's helm as his sensor wings pressed back into Soundwave's touch.

His bondmates knew him so well, knew everything that drove Prowl to bliss and pleasure, and gave without reservation, and Prowl reveled shameless in their giving.

~Love you.~

~Love ya too.~

~Soundwave: loves Prowl,~ came the replies, as much emotion as words as the pair put their full efforts into driving Prowl over the edge.

It was, without question, the activity Jazz and Soundwave agreed the most on, and the inevitable result in a very short span of time was energy crackling over Prowl's plating as his frame shuddered, driven by excess energy and pure bliss into an overload that could only be brought on by his bondmates.

Behind him Soundwave groaned and shifted his grip to Prowl's hips, holding them relatively still as he drove in deep and hard into the quivering, energy-rich valve a handful of times before the sensations and the duel overloads against his telepathy drove him over the edge to pump a thick load of transfluid into his bonded.

With a moan and shudder of his own, Jazz eagerly swallowed everything Prowl offered up before snapping his helm back with a keen, his frame crackling and shuddering in an overload driven by bond, overflow and his own nature.

Prowl purred softly, entirely content as he came down from his high to relax back against Soundwave while they all sank to the floor. Gentle hands pulled Jazz against him, Prowl nuzzling affectionately at his helm as clear adoration of his mates sang across the bonds.

"Relocate to berth?" Soundwave suggested, only half reluctant as he pulled his spike from Prowl's valve as he caught what Jazz had in mind.

"If you want." Prowl grumbled good naturedly, stealing one last kiss from Jazz before releasing him so they both could rise from the floor.

"I think you'll want," Jazz purred with a wink towards Soundwave as they guided the relaxed and compliant Praxian towards their berth room. "You'll want a nice place to relax and watch us get each other all worked up for a three way merge."

A soft whimper of eager anticipation escaped the Praxian, revealing how much he did want the feeling of sharing both his bondmates so intimately at the same time. That they intended to enjoy each other just before made it all the hotter. It was so much more than he'd dared to hope for, much less this soon after he'd bonding with Soundwave.

With a grin and shared rumbled, Jazz and Soundwave situated Prowl at the head of the gigantic berth, one large enough for two mechs Soundwave's size, before turning to share a long, passionate kiss.

Loving optics locked on the two forms, sensor wings fluttering as he watched and felt and loved. The warmth of pleasure from both sides of his hub-bonds made his engine rev as they pair began to touch, caress and silently work out what they were going to do.

Gradually they shifted so Soundwave was sitting on his pedes while Jazz stood to continue kissing him.

Silent encouragement and second hand gratification radiated from Prowl. As much as he loved being between the two of them, watching them together was an entirely different kind of pleasure to his spark. They may never _love_ each other, but in moments like this when they made each other moan in pleasure, Prowl knew it was close enough.

His spark sang to watch his bondeds together.

His frame shivered with the building charge as Jazz gently pulled away and turned towards Prowl before prostrating himself, his aft in the air and arms stretched before him. Without a word Soundwave covered him, leaning forward to pin Jazz's wrists to the berth with one hand with two thick tentacles wrapped around Jazz's hips to support him against the powerful thrust that seated Soundwave's spike deep inside his eager valve.

Prowl whimpered at the erotic scene playing out before him, squirming slightly in place. Even without the bonds the sheer pleasure rolling off both mechs would have had him struggling to be obedient and stay where he had been placed.

~Come're babe,~ Jazz reached out as Soundwave began to pound into him just the way Jazz liked it most. ~Met me lick your valve.~

~You said I was supposed to be watching.~ Prowl argued, despite the fact that he wanted to be over there in the middle of it all.

~Then watch,~ Jazz trembled and keened his pleasure as his valve was stretched nearly to its limits, Soundwave's long, thick spike rubbing against every sensor in the slick passage.

An answering keen came from Prowl, the pleasure washing over the bonds pushing his self-control to the limit and breaking it. He moved closer, stopping just shy of touching the rocking, thrusting pair all but lost in their own bliss.

It was only a few more moments before Soundwave roared his overload, the rush of his pleasure and transfluid into Jazz's valve setting off the smaller mech, who keened and trembled as he lost control of his frame to the overload.

A shudder ran through Prowl, the need for some form of release only growing stronger. His field stretched out, thick with the need to be held and loved, to feel his lovers in the way that mattered most.

Soundwave responded first, pulling out of Jazz with a slick slide that made the silver mech shudder. Without hesitation Prowl was pulled between them, the pair easily rearranging their frames so all three of their chests were angled for a three-mech spark merge.

~Love you both.~ Prowl murmured, chest plates sliding away as he settled between Soundwave and Jazz.

Their chests opened in response, the buzz of their overload still tingling between them even as they took in Prowl's intense charge.

Jazz and Soundwave's sparks reached for Prowl's first, reaching along the existing bonds to wrap the Praxian in all each couple was.

Prowl moaned, welcoming each touch with love and complete acceptance.

The connection between his spark and Soundwave's, bright and shining still in its newness and blazing as their sparks touched once more.

Then the bond with Jazz, softer, but strong and solid. Sparks that had been joined so long that it was more a reconnection of two parts than an actual merging of individuals.

It was the next connection, the one between Jazz and Soundwave, that truly made Prowl's spark tremble in bliss. All three of them together, as one spark, one desire, one _being_.

For that brief, endless moment between full merge and overload, Prowl's universe was perfect.


End file.
